“Get in quickly,” she said.
“I won’t,” said Mr. Wainbridge, “until you are up. Don’t do it. I wish you wouldn’t.”
“Rubbish,” she replied. “I am going by the back streets. I know the way, so does the mare. I am driving Nell, you know.”
She climbed up and arranged the rugs.
“It is splendid, it gives one such a grip. Let her go.”
They dashed off with a clatter. The mare evidently was pulling.
“I never thought she would do it,” said Mr. George.
“I wish to Heaven she had not tried,” said the other.
“Get out, then,” said Mr. George. “Shall I stop her?”
“No! If she is killed, I’ll be killed too!”