“Then come with me,” said Lady Bell.
“Where to, my lady?” asked Jackson, who was used to her ladyship’s willfulness, and sat, patient as Job, waiting for the issue of this strange adventure.
“To—where did you say?” asked Lady Bell.
“Spider Court,” said Jack; “but I wish you’d let me go out and walk. It must be right out of your way.”
“Spider Court, Temple,” said Lady Bell, and the brougham rolled on.
Through it all Mrs. Fellowes had remained in the deep sleep which the gods vouchsafe to good women of her age, and the two—Lady Bell and Jack—were, to all intents and purposes, alone.
Lady Bell looked at him as he sat in his corner, the thin, red stream trickling down from his forehead, and shuddered; not at him, but at the blood.
“How did you come to be run over?” she asked. “Did you fall?”
“Must have done,” he said, coolly; “anyway I’ll swear it wasn’t the coachman’s fault.”
“I am not going to blame the coachman,” said Lady Bell, with the shadow of a smile.