But this was not all.

There, in the highway beside the car, the mist of her veil like a halo about her, Olivia stood alone.
St.George did not reckon what they meant to do.

He dropped over the side of the tonneau and ran to her.

He stood before her, and all the joy that he had ever known was transcended as she turned toward him.

She threw out her hands with a little cry--was it gladness, or relief, or beseeching?
He could not be certain that there was even recognition in her eyes before she tottered and swayed, and he caught her unconscious form in his arms.