d car that he had been promised the use of;
and counting Sylvia and himself and the driver, there was only one
place left. While he was wondering to whom it would be best to offer
it, Sylvia thought of Ethel West, who had announced that she would not
attend the function. By making a short round, they could pass through
a market town of some importance.

"You mentioned that you wished to buy some things; why not come with
us?" she said to Ethel. "We could drop you going out and call for you
coming home. Susan will have the big car full, so she couldn't take
you, and it's a long drive to the station and the trains run awkwardly."

Sylvia's motive was easy to discern, but Ethel agreed. She was, on the
whole, inclined to pity Captain Bland; but he was a stranger and George
was a friend. If Sylvia must choose between them, it would be much
better that she should take the soldier. For all that, Ethel had an
uncomfortable feeling that she was assisting in a piece of treachery
when she set off soon after lunch on a fine autumn day; and the car had
gone several miles before she began to enjoy the ride.

For a while the straight white road, climbing steadily, crossed a waste
of moors. The dry grass gleamed gray and silver among the russet fern;
rounded, white-edged clouds floated, scarcely moving, in a sky of
softest blue. The upland air was gloriously fresh, and the speed
exhilarating.

By and by they ran down into a narrow dale in the depths of which a
river brawled among the stones, and climbed a long ascent, from which
they could see a moving dust-cloud indicating that Mrs. Kettering's car
was only a mile or two behind. After that there was a league of brown
heath, and then they sped down to a wide, wooded valley, in the midst
of which rose the gray walls of an ancient town. On reaching it, Ethel
alighted in the market-square, hard by the lofty abbey, and turned to
Bland.

"I have one or two calls to make after I've finished shopping, but if
it takes longer than I expected or you can't get here in time, I'll go
back by train," she said. "In that case, you must bring me home from
the station."

Bland promised, and Ethel watched the car with a curious expression
until it vanished under a time-worn archway. She was vexed with
herself for playing into Sylvia's hands, though she had only done so in
what she regarded as George's interest. If Sylvia married Bland, the
blow would no doubt be a heavy one to George