She was staring straight before her; the colour had faded from her cheek; she looked pale and tired.
"Sylvia!" he repeated.

"Listen to me, and--and don't be offended." She glanced quickly at the man sitting by her side.

His voice was charged with emotion, with anger.
"Don't be angry with me," he repeated.

"If my suspicion, my fear, is unfounded, I beg your pardon with all my heart." Sylvia got up and touched the driver on the shoulder.

"Please slow down," she said in French, "we are going faster than I like." Then she sank back in her seat.