CHAPTER VII.
THE MAN AT THE WHEEL When Caryl came back to the motor his handkerchief was bound about the knuckles of his right hand, and his face wore a faint smile that had in it more of grimness than humour.
He paused at the open window and looked in on Doris without opening the door.

The sound of the rain pattering heavily upon his shoulders filled in a silence that she found terrible.

He spoke at length: "You had better shut the window, the rain is coming in." That was all, spoken in his customary drawl without a hint of anger or reproach.

They cut her hard, those few words of his.

It was as if he deemed her unworthy even of his contempt.
She raised her white face.
"What--are you going to do ?" she managed to ask through her quivering lips.
"I am going to take you to the nearest town--to Bramfield to spend the rest of the night.