possible to tell
what was going on in that grim waking sleep, which made her feel that she
was not there at all, so utterly did he seem withdrawn into himself!

He opened his eyes, and said suddenly:

"So you think I'm going to lay hands on myself, Babs?"

Horribly startled by this reading of her thoughts, Barbara could only
edge away and stammer:

"No; oh, no!"

"Where are we going in this thing?"

"Nettlefold. Would you like him stopped?"

"It will do as well as anywhere."

Terrified lest he should relapse into that grim silence, she timidly
possessed herself of his hand.

It was fast growing dark; the cab, having left the villas of Surbiton
behind, was flying along at great speed among pine-trees and stretches of
heather gloomy with faded daylight.

Miltoun said presently, in a queer, slow voice "If I want, I have only to
open that door and jump. You who believe that 'to-morrow we die'--give
me the faith to feel that I can free myself by that jump, and out I go!"
Then, seeming to pity her terrified squeeze of his hand, he added: "It's
all right, Babs; we, shall sleep comfortably enough in our beds tonight."

But, so desolate to the girl was his voice, that she hoped now for
silence.

"Let us be skinned quietly," muttered Miltoun, "if nothing else. Sorry to
have disturbed you."

Pressing close up to him, Barbara murmured:

"If only----Talk to me!".

But Miltoun, though he stroked her hand, was silent.

The cab, moving at unaccustomed speed along these deserted roads, moaned
dismally; and Barbara was possessed now by a desire which she dared not
put in practice, to pull his head down, and rock it against her. Her
heart felt empty, and timid; to have something warm resting on it would
have made all the difference. Everything real, substantial, comforting,
seemed to have slipped away. Among these flying dark ghosts of
pine-trees--as it were the unfrequented borderland between two
worlds--the feeling of a cheek against her breast alone could help muffle
the deep disquiet in her, lost like a child in a wood.

The cab slackened speed, the driver was lighting his lamps; and his red
face appeared at the window.

"We'll 'ave to stop here, miss; I'm out of petrol. Will you get some
dinner, or go through?"

"Through," answered Barbara:

While they were passing the little their, buying then petrol, asking the
way, she felt less miserable, and even looked about her with a sort of
eagerness. Then w