The dry grass gleamed gray and silver among the russet fern; rounded, white-edged clouds floated, scarcely moving, in a sky of softest blue.

The upland air was gloriously fresh, and the speed exhilarating.
By and by they ran down into a narrow dale in the depths of which a river brawled among the stones, and climbed a long ascent, from which they could see a moving dust-cloud indicating that Mrs.Kettering's car was only a mile or two behind.

After that there was a league of brown heath, and then they sped down to a wide, wooded valley, in the midst of which rose the gray walls of an ancient town.

On reaching it, Ethel alighted in the market-square, hard by the lofty abbey, and turned to Bland.
"I have one or two calls to make after I've finished shopping, but if it takes longer than I expected or you can't get here in time, I'll go back by train," she said.

"In that case, you must bring me home from the station." Bland promised, and Ethel watched the car with a curious expression until it vanished under a time-worn archway.