They went out to the car. A small trunk was strapped on behind. Everything had been prepared for Miss Enderby’s visit to the country. The chauffeur opened the door and touched his cap respectfully, the two women got in, and off they went. “Now you will please to dismiss this subject from your mind,” said Mrs. Enderby. “I do not wish to talk of it.” She spoke kindly now. “You will have a pleasant day in the country.” “Day!” said Lexy. “But what time will we get back?” “Before dinner.” “Oh, I’ve got to get back this afternoon! I’ve got to see some one! It’s important—terribly important!” Mrs. Enderby smiled faintly. “The chauffeur must see you descend at Miss Craigie’s house,” she said. “Once we are there, I have a hat and coat of your own in the trunk. I shall explain what is necessary to Miss Craigie, who is very discreet, very devoted. You can change then, but you must go home quietly by train; and I think there are not many trains.” Lexy had a vision of the young man waiting and waiting for her in the park that afternoon—the young man who had trusted her, who was waiting in such miserable anxiety for some news of Caroline. “Mrs. Enderby,” she protested, “I can’t come with you. I’ve got to get back this afternoon.” “No,” said Mrs. Enderby. Lexy made a creditable effort to master her anger and distress. “It’s important—to you,” she said. “I have to see some one about Caroline—some one who can tell you something.” This time Mrs. Enderby made no answer at all. There she sat, stout, majestic, absolutely impervious, looking out of the window as if Lexy did not exist. What was to be done? She couldn’t communicate with the chauffeur except by leaning across Mrs. Enderby, and a struggle with that lady was out of the question. “But I’m not going on!” she thought. She waited until the car slowed down at a crossing. Then she made a sudden dart for the door. With equal suddenness Mrs. Enderby seized her arm. “Sit down!” she said, in a singularly unpleasant whisper. “There shall be no scene. Sit down, I tell you!” “I won’t!” replied Lexy, but just then the car started forward, and she fell back on the seat. “You will come with me,” said Mrs. Enderby. That overbearing tone, that grasp on her arm, were very nearly too much for Lexy. She had always been quick-tempered. All the Morans were, and were perversely proud of it, too; but Lexy had learned many lessons in a hard school. She had learned to control her temper, and she did so now. She was silent for a time. “All right!” she agreed, at last. “I’ll come. I don’t see what else I can do—now; but after this I’ll have to use my own judgment, Mrs. Enderby.” “You have none,” Mrs. Enderby told her calmly. Lexy clenched her hands, and again was silent for a moment. “I mean—” she began.