She gave him a long wondering stare, and presently insisted that she must go. She promised, however, that she would do everything in her power to find out what was hidden in those sinister bushes. She was to keep a pencil and paper beside her bed and write down everything she could remember as soon as she waked up in the morning. She hurried home to tell Aunt Georgy all that had occurred and was disappointed to find her aunt established at the bridge table with Norma and two of Norma's friends. It seemed that Mr. Lisburn had been expected as a fourth and they had been obliged to come to Aunt Georgy at the last minute to make up the table. Norma was still angry. "They can't have it both ways--these psychoanalysts," Norma was saying. "It's always a Freudian forgetting--a wish-thought--when you forget an engagement with them, and something quite professional and unavoidable when they break an engagement with you." "What Norma means, Evie," said Aunt Georgy, without raising her eyes from the interesting hand which had just been dealt her, "is that she suspects Mr. Lisburn of having had something more amusing to do." Evie shook her head as if you couldn't be sure with men like that. "Perhaps he had," she said. Then Aunt Georgy knew the interview had gone well. Three days later, not having heard anything more from her, he came to the house late in the afternoon. He was in his own car, and he suggested that perhaps he could help her to overcome her repugnance to motoring. At first she refused with every appearance of terror; but soon she admitted that with him she would feel perfectly safe, and so she yielded and got in. She spoke little, and he could hear that she drew her breath in a tremulous and disturbing manner. At last, in a lonely road, her terror seemed to overmaster her, and she opened the door and would have sprung out while the car was going thirty-five miles an hour if Lisburn had not held her in. As soon as he had brought the car to a standstill he took his arm away, while little Evie cowered in the seat beside him. "You see," she said at last, "how it is with me? If you had not been there I should have jumped out and been killed. It's stronger than I am." "I see," he answered gently. "Well, if it happens again I won't force you to stay in the car. You shall get out and walk home." She thanked him warmly for his concession, but it did not happen again. After this they had conferences every evening, as her stay at Jefferson was coming to an end, and she still did not seem to be able to see what was the emotional center of her dream.