where we don't want to stop. Let them go."

"I suppose we might as well," he said, "for we can't prove anything
worth proving. Come, then." He slipped some money into the guide's hand,
and thanked him for his courtesy and kindness. But another pang shot
through my remorseful heart. More money spent by this man for me, when
he had so little, and had lost the engagement which, though unworthy his
rank in life, was the only present means he had of earning a livelihood.
I came, obeying in forlorn silence, and could not answer when he tried
to cheer me up as we walked down to the Hotel Monte Carlo. There stood
the Aigle in charge of a youth from the inn, and there was more money
to be paid to him. I wanted to give it, but saw that if I insisted Mr.
Dane would be vexed.

He suggested putting me inside, as the air was now very cold, with the
chill that falls after sunset; but I refused. "I want to sit by you!" I
implored, and he said no more. With the glass cage behind us empty, and
the great acetylene lamps alight, the Aigle turned and flew down the
hill.

CHAPTER XVI

For some time we did not speak, but my thoughts moved more quickly than
the beating of the engine. At last I said meekly, "Of course, I may as
well consider myself discharged, too. And even if I weren't, I should
go."

"I've been thinking about that," Mr. Dane answered. "It was the first
thought that came into my head when the row began. It isn't likely
she'll want you to leave, because she won't like getting on without a
maid. I think, in the circumstances, unless she is brutal, you'd better
stay with her till your friends can receive you. Someone _must_ come
forward and help you now."

"I wouldn't ask anyone but Pamela, who's gone to America," I protested.
"Besides, I can't stand Lady Turnour after what's happened--with you
gone."

(As I said this, I remembered again how I had dreaded to associate with
the chauffeur, and planned to avoid him. It was rather funny, as it had
turned out; but somehow I didn't feel like laughing.)

"Of course _you_ won't mind," I went on. "It's different for a man. If
you were left and I going, it wouldn't matter, because you'd have the
car. But I've nothing--except Lady Turnour's 'transformation.' Luckily,
she won't want me to stop."

"I think she will," he said, "because your only fault was in having an
accident. You weren't impudent, as she thinks I was in refusing to drive
the car. Also in letting her see