"Dear Ruth!" he whispered.
She turned very pale and very soon afterward she insisted upon being set down. They walked slowly to where the motor car was waiting at the corner of the lane. Ruth began to talk nervously.
"It was charming of Mrs. Weatherley," she declared, "to lend you this car. Tell me how it happened, Arnie?"
"I simply told her," he replied, "that I was going to take a friend, who needed a little fresh air, out into the country, and she insisted upon sending this car instead of letting me hire a taxicab. It was over the telephone and I couldn't refuse. Besides, Mr. Weatherley was in the office, and he insisted upon it, too. They only use this one in London, and I know that they are away somewhere for the week-end."
"It has been so delightful," Ruth murmured. "Now I am going to lie back among these beautiful cushions, and just watch and think."
The car glided on along the country lane, passing through leafy hamlets, across a great breezy moorland, from the top of which they could see the Thames winding its way into Oxfordshire, a sinuous belt of silver. Then they sped down into the lower country, and Arnold looked at the milestones in some surprise.
"We don't seem to be getting any nearer to London," he remarked.
Ruth only shook her head.
"It will come soon enough," she said, with a little shiver. "It will pass, this, like everything else."
They had dropped to the level now, and suddenly, without warning, the car swung through a low white gate up along an avenue of shrubs. Arnold leaned forward.