The coupe is at the door.

John will drive you home.

You need sleep now." As he sank down into the luxurious cushions and drove away through the twilight, he saw the little white figure in the door, and the grave wistful face looking after him.
"Did she suspect!" he suddenly cried, starting up.
But George Waldeaux never knew how much Lucy suspected that night.
Meanwhile Mrs.Waldeaux's mare had jogged on leisurely, dragging her mistress and Miss Vance home through the shady country lanes.
"Phebe is old," apologized Frances.

"She really is a retired car horse." "You used to take pride in your horses, Frances ?" "Yes." Mrs.Waldeaux added after a pause.

"My income is small.