escended into the ditch. He was a skilful
driver, and as a rule careful enough, but the necessity of turning out
at night for the convenience of an insignificant guest had tried his
temper, and he was not unwilling to prejudice Miss Mallison against a
repetition of the drive. In any case, the swerve was startling enough,
and Teresa, feeling herself sinking through space, instinctively threw
out her hands and grasped the nearest object. For the moment she was
unconscious that that object was Dane himself; she simply found support,
and clung, and Dane's arms held her fast. Two or three violent wrenches
followed, as the whole strength of the car struggled to mount the
incline, and meantime, locked in each other's arms, the man and the girl
swayed together, this way and that, backwards and forwards, until with a
final jerk and groan the roadway was reached. All the time Teresa had
not uttered a sound, but now that safety was assured, a sobbing breath
quavered from between her lips. It was a pathetic little sound, like
the sob of a child in pain, and the red lips were very near. From pure
instinct, rather than any definite intention, Peignton bent still
nearer, and kissed those lips into silence, murmuring gentle words of
encouragement.

"Poor girl--poor dear! It's all over... We are all right now. You are
not frightened, Teresa?"

He held her fast, resisting a faint movement to escape. He did not want
her to go. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her again, and feel her lips
tremble against his own. The sore, wounded feeling of the evening had
disappeared, his heart was beating with strong, rapid strokes. The
electric lamp showed the girl's face flushed and tremulous, the eyes
shyly drooping before his own. He bent over her and whispered a
question, knowing full well what the answer would be, but wanting to
hear it, all the same.

"Are you angry with me for kissing you, Teresa?"

The girl shook her head. Her low voice sounded young and sweet.

"Oh, no... I'm glad!"

"Why are you glad?"

"Because you,--you _care_!" said Teresa, trembling.

For a breath Dane hesitated, and in that pause something ominous gripped
at his heart, and like a man who has made a false step on the edge of a
precipice he saw a glimpse of an abyss; but the next moment youth and
blood rose to the appeal, and he kissed the soft lips once and again,
murmuring appropriate protestations.

"Of course I care--who wouldn't? I've cared