"No, do you?"

"No."

But we turned back and came up out of the woods into the lights of the
town.

"Where shall I drop you--at the Club?"

"Let me drop you," I said, "and borrow your buggy afterward to take me
home. You ought not to drive alone at night."

"Maybe it would be better if I did," she said.

We said good-night at the door of her house, but not easily. For once
it seemed hard to say anything final.

"Was I very brazen," she said, "to ask you to go with me, when I didn't
want to be alone?"

"You were not," I said, "it was sweet of you. I loved it."

Cornelius Twombly lunged from the black shadow of a cedar tree and went
to the horse's head.

"Good-night, Lucy. Good luck!"

Just then we heard John calling.

"That you, Lucy? You're late. I was getting anxious."

We could see him coming down the path, a vague shadow among the
shadows, his cigarette burning brightly.

"Hallo, who is it? I can't see."

"It's Archie Mannering," said Lucy.

"Oh, is it? Won't you come in?"

"Can't, thanks. Got to dress. Lovely night, isn't it? Good-night.
Good-night, Lucy."

When I had driven a little way I turned and looked over my shoulder,
but though I could only see the fire of John's cigarette, I imagined
that I could see his face--a little puzzled, a little anxious, and very
sad.

It was on that same night that he said to Lucy: "Aren't you seeing a
good deal of Archie Mannering?"

And she answered:

"Am I? I suppose I am. I like him awfully."

XVII

I awoke the next morning with the feeling that something or other was
impending. I had no idea what it might be, pleasant or unpleasant. I
felt a little the way you feel just before a race on which you have bet
altogether too much money, a little excited, a little nervous, equally
ready for laughter or anger. I had also the feeling that I had a great
many things to do, and could not possibly get them done in so short a
space of time as one day.

I hurried through breakfast. I hurried through the papers. And then I
realized with a sense of anti-climax that until four o'clock, when I
was to ride with Lucy, I had but one thing of any possible importance
to do. And upon that business from first to last including the walk to
the village and thence to the Club I spent no more than three-quarters
of an hour. It had been an eccentric piece of business, and I was
rather pleased with myself for having brought it to a satisfactory
co