"Life’s a game all through. We all say it, but what else can we say? We’re in the long field most of the time, and when we get an innings, Fate goes and bowls us a curly one. I’ve never had an innings in my life, and I’ve been fielding for fifteen years—since I was seventeen—and my poor old father played on in Mark Lane and lost his house the ’ashes.’ That’s my story, and I don’t tell it to everyone. Perhaps I have no right to tell it to you—but you seem so different, Mrs. Kennaird; I feel I can talk to you, and that’s what I feel about very few people." "You pay me a great compliment," she said, and then, "But we are both quite strangers here. This is my first visit to Switzerland in the winter; I know nobody." He nodded his head. "But I thought that I knew you directly I saw you—I shall remember where we met by and by. Had you relatives down Newmarket way, I wonder—people who used to live at Holmswell?" She shook her head. "Then I’m quite wrong; now let’s get going. You sit in front and I’ll steer—don’t be afraid, I shan’t upset you. They laugh at me in the hotel, but I’m going to have some fun with them before I get through. Are you quite ready—shall we let her rip?" She said "Yes," and he pushed the toboggan off the bank. Had he been less nervous, he would have said that the "little widow" trembled; but Benny was anxious to make a fine run and had no idea how many would have envied him his burden. And truly it was wonderful how he steered on that dark and tortuous road. To the woman the whole thing was an ecstasy, a mad rush down the mountain-side; a wonderful journey into fairyland; a magician’s leap through the realms of darkness to the enchanted vales of the fables. When they stopped, Benny had steered them right down to the cross roads by the Sanatorium, and they must tramp ten minutes through the woods before they reached the hotel again. It was here that he harked back to the dangerous topic. "It’s odd about those Newmarket people—I could have sworn Lady Delayne was your sister," he said; "really the likeness is wonderful. I went to Holmswell from Norwich when I was in the motor shops trying to make myself an engineer. The electric light engine went wrong over at the house, and Sir Luton—that was his name—Sir Luton Delayne sent to our people. I remember him well, a little rat of a man whose temper used to go off like a cracker. It makes me laugh when I remember that he tried to bully me, until I said a word or two in my own way. He was very civil after that and showed me over the house. There was a picture of a lady in the drawing-room as like you as two peas. I thought of it directly I saw you to-day. ’She’ll be a relative,’ I said. You quite surprised me just now when you said you were not."