Police were everywhere, and the market-place--a sorry sight of smoky wreck and ruin--was held by a cordon of soldiers, behind which a crowd still looked on.

French, sitting beside her, watched the erect girl-driver, the excellence of her driving, the brain and skill she was bringing to bear upon her "job." Here was the "new woman" indeed, in her best aspect.

He could not but compare the Helena of this adventure--this competent and admirable Helena--with the girl of the night before.

Had the war produced the same dual personality in thousands of English men and English women ?--in the English nation itself?
They drew up at the steps of the market-hall, where a group of persons were standing, including a nurse in uniform.

Buntingford came forward, and bending over the side of the car, said to Helena: "Do you want to be relieved?
There are several people here who could drive the car." She flushed.
"I want to take these men to hospital." He smiled at her.
"You shall." He turned back to speak to the doctor who was to accompany the car.
Helena jumped out, and went to consult with the nurse.