the whip. Before he could urge the horse forward, Sandy had swung himself lightly to the step of the buggy, and was leaning back against the dash-board. He looked past Carter to Annette. She was making a heroic effort to look unconcerned and indifferent, but her eyelids were red, and her handkerchief was twisted into a damp little string about her fingers. Sandy wasted no time in diplomacy; he struck straight out from the shoulder.
"If it's doing something you don't want to, you don't have to, Nettie. I'm here."
Carter stopped his horse.
"Will you get down?" he demanded angrily.
"After you," said Sandy.
Carter measured his man, then stepped to the ground. Sandy promptly followed.
"And now," said Carter, "you'll perhaps be good enough to explain what you mean."
Sandy still kept his hand on the buggy
and his eyes on Annette; when he spoke it was to her.
"If it's your wish to go on, say the word."