"Then won't you begin by making use of me at once?" I pleaded with an
eagerness I could no longer disguise.

"I--am I not making use of you now? Ah, I know what you mean! You mean I
am to tell you the things which I have let you see are troubling me? But
much as I need help and advice, _could_ I do that now, so soon? You
must already think me a very strange girl--half mad perhaps. Well, I
have had almost enough of late to drive me mad. Some time, in a few days
maybe, when we know each other a little better, I----But the man is
stopping. We have come to the doctor's you spoke of, I suppose?"

I neither blessed the cabman nor the doctor at that moment. Still less
did I do so afterwards, knowing that, if we had not been interrupted
then, it might well have happened that the whole course of our two lives
had been changed.

However, there was nothing to be done but ascertain if the eminent man
was at home, and able to give his attention to a somewhat urgent case.

The poor girl, too, was evidently suffering, and in a highly nervous
state, and it would have been cruel, now that the opportunity had
presented itself, to keep her for a single instant from the restoratives
doubtless at hand.

Dr. Byrnes was to be seen. I introduced Miss Cunningham to him,
described the accident, and left him to do what he could for the injured
ankle. Afterwards I had still the joy of driving to Park Lane with her
in anticipation.

I was only called when Dr. Byrnes was ready to send his patient away.

"Do you know what was the first thing that this young lady did before I
had time to begin my ministrations?" he jocularly enquired, and though
the girl looked up at him with imploring eyes, he persisted. "Why, she
fainted away, and if she had to do it, she couldn't have chosen a more
proper occasion. There I was, with all the known remedies at hand, and I
proceeded to use them, with the most satisfactory results, as you may
see. I don't think you will have any further trouble in going home; and
now that she has been well dosed and well bandaged, the best thing she
can do is to eat a hearty luncheon."

Once again settled in the cab, we were but a few moments' drive from Sir
Walter Tressidy's house in Park Lane, as I knew to my intense regret.
With wily forethought, however, I suggested going somewhat out of our
way to the establishment of a certain bicycle manufacturer and mender,
who would send for Miss Cunningham's machine, and repair it b