up
against the gatepost.

He ran, but before he reached the gate the lady was on foot, holding the
plunging horse's bridle.

"Are you hurt?" cried Shelton breathlessly, and he, too, grabbed the
bridle. "Those beastly cars!"

"I don't know," she said. "Please don't; he won't let strangers touch
him."

Shelton let go, and watched her coax the horse. She was rather tall,
dressed in a grey habit, with a grey Russian cap upon her head, and he
suddenly recognised the Mrs. Foliot whom they had been talking of at
lunch.

"He 'll be quiet now," she said, "if you would n't mind holding him a
minute."

She gave the reins to him, and leaned against the gate. She was very
pale.

"I do hope he has n't hurt you," Shelton said. He was quite close to
her, well able to see her face--a curious face with high cheek-bones and
a flatfish moulding, enigmatic, yet strangely passionate for all its
listless pallor. Her smiling, tightened lips were pallid; pallid, too,
her grey and deep-set eyes with greenish tints; above all, pale the ashy
mass of hair coiled under her grey cap.

"Th-thanks!" she said; "I shall be all right directly. I'm sorry to
have made a fuss."

She bit her lips and smiled.

"I 'm sure you're hurt; do let me go for--" stammered Shelton. "I can
easily get help."

"Help!" she said, with a stony little laugh; "oh, no, thanks!"

She left the gate, and crossed the road to where he held the horse.
Shelton, to conceal embarrassment, looked at the horse's legs, and
noticed that the grey was resting one of them. He ran his hand down.

"I 'm afraid," he said, "your horse has knocked his off knee; it's
swelling."

She smiled again.

"Then we're both cripples."

"He'll be lame when he gets cold. Would n't you like to put him in the
stable here? I 'm sure you ought to drive home."

"No, thanks; if I 'm able to ride him he can carry me. Give me a hand
up."

Her voice sounded as though something had offended her. Rising from
inspection of the horse's leg, Shelton saw Antonia and Toddles standing
by. They had come through a wicketgate leading from the fields.

The latter ran up to him at once.

"We saw it," he whispered--"jolly smash-up. Can't I help?"

"Hold his bridle," answered Shelton, and he looked from one lady to the
other.

There are moments when the expression of a face fixes itself with painful
clearness; to Shelton this was such a moment. Those two faces close
together, under the