tly to herself--and then laughingly sang a
bar or two aloud.

Thornton shot a quick, appreciative glance at her and nodded, joining in
the laugh.

"By Jove!" he said approvingly. "That sounds good to me. I was afraid
this beastly stretch, bumping and crawling along in the dark, was making
you miserable."

"Miserable!" exclaimed Helena. "Why, the idea! What is there to be
miserable about? We'll get through after a while--and the road's better
now than it was anyhow, isn't it?"

"Better?"

"You're running faster."

"Oh--er--yes, of course," said Thornton quickly. "I wasn't thinking of
what I said. I--"

He stopped suddenly, as Helena lifted her hand to her face.

"Why, it's beginning to rain," she said.

"Yes; I'm afraid so," he admitted. "I was hoping we would get out of
here before it came."

"Oh!" said Helena.

"And the worst of it is," he added hurriedly, "there's no top to the
car, and you've no wraps."

"Perhaps it won't be anything more than a shower," said Helena
hopefully.

"Perhaps not," he agreed. "Anyway"--he stopped the car, and took off his
coat--"put this on."

"No--please," protested Helena. "You'll need it yourself."

"Not at all," said Thornton cheerily. "And that light dress of yours
would be soaked through in no time."

He held the coat for her, and she slipped it on--and his hand around her
shoulder and neck, as he turned the collar up and buttoned it gently
about her, seemed to linger as it touched her throat, and yet linger
with the most curious diffidence--a sort of reverence. Helena suddenly
wanted to laugh--and, quick in her intuition, as suddenly wanted to cry.
It wasn't much--only a little touch. It didn't mean love, or passion, or
feeling--only that, unconsciously in his respect, he held her up to gaze
upon herself again in that mocking mirror where all was sham.

They started on--Thornton silent once more, busy with the car; Helena,
her mind in riot, with no wish for words.

The rain came steadily in a drizzle. She could feel her dress growing
damp around her knees--and she shivered a little. How strangely
wonderful the rain-beads looked on their background of green leaves
where the lamps played upon them--they seemed to catch and hold and
reflect back the light in a quick, passing procession of clear,
sparkling crystals. But it was raining more heavily now, wasn't it? The
drops were no longer clinging to the leaves, they were spattering dull
and lustrelessly to the