Her strength was nearly spent, but the cabman was on the watch, and, driving up to the entrance, climbed down and bundled her into the cab. The drive was all too short for her to compose herself as she would have liked, and she met the accusatory glance of Martha with but little of her old spirit.
"I went a little too far," she said, feebly, as the servant helped her to the door.
"What did I tell you?" demanded the other, and placing her in her chair removed her bonnet and cape, and stood regarding her with sour disapproval.
"I'm getting better," said the old lady, stoutly.
"I'm getting my breath back again. I—I think I'll have a glass of wine."
"Yes, 'm," said Martha, moving off. "The red-currant?"
"Red-currant!" said Mrs. Willett, sharply. "Red-currant! Certainly not. The port."
Martha disappeared, marvelling, to return a minute or two later with the wine and a glass on a tray. Mrs. Willett filled her glass and, whispering a toast to herself, half emptied it.
"Martha!" she said, looking round with a smile.
"Ma'am!"