e time
thereafter she was drowsily sentient--aware of wheeling streets and
endless, marching ranks of houses. Then again she dozed, recovering her
senses only when, after a lapse of perhaps half an hour, the noise of
the motor ceased and the big machine slowed down smoothly to a dead
halt.

She opened her eyes, comprehending dully a complete change in the aspect
of the land. They had stopped on the right of the road, in front of a
low-roofed wooden building whose signboard creaking overhead in the
breeze named the place an inn. To the left lay a stretch of woodland;
and there were trees, too, behind the inn, but in less thick array, so
that it was possible to catch through their trunks and foliage glimpses
of blue water splashed with golden sunlight. A soft air fanned in off
the water, sweet and clean. The sky was high and profoundly blue,
unflecked by cloud.

With a feeling of gratitude, she struggled to recollect her wits and
realise her position; but still her weariness was heavy upon her. The
man she called her father was coming down the path from the inn doorway.
He carried a tumbler brimming with a pale amber liquid. Walking round to
her side of the car he offered it.

"Drink this," she heard him say in a pleasant voice; "it'll help you
brace up."

Obediently she accepted the glass and drank. The soul of the stuff broke
out in delicate, aromatic bubbles beneath her nostrils. There was a
stinging but refreshing feeling in her mouth and throat. She said
"champagne" sleepily to herself, and with a word of thanks returned an
empty glass.

She heard the man laugh, and in confusion wondered why. If anything, she
felt more sleepy than before.

He climbed back into his seat. A question crawled in her brain,
tormenting. Finally she managed to enunciate a part of it:

"How much longer ...?"

"Oh, not a great ways now."

The response seemed to come from a far distance. She felt the car moving
beneath her and ... no more. Sleep possessed her utterly, heavy and
dreamless....

There followed several phases of semi-consciousness wherein she moved by
instinct alone, seeing men as trees walking, the world as through a
mist.

In one, she was being helped out of the motor-car. Then somebody was
holding her arm and guiding her along a path of some sort. Planks rang
hollowly beneath her feet, and the hand on her arm detained her. A
voice said: "This way--just step right out; you're perfectly safe."
Mechanically she ob