. She would like to prevent it. With most girls she could poison
their minds against a man by representing him as ludicrous, but Eleanor
was not easily swayed. Lydia wondered if after they were married she
could be more successful. She had never hated anyone quite the way she
hated O'Bannon. It was fun, in a way, to hate a person. Her spirits
began to mount as speed, like a narcotic, soothed her nerves. The road
was smooth and new and had stood the winter frosts well. The first
spring thaw had deposited on its cement surface a dampness which
glistened here and there and made the wheels slip and the car waver like
a living thing. This only increased Lydia's pleasure and fixed her
attention as on the narrow ribbon of cement she passed an occasional
car.

Suddenly as she dashed past a crossroad she caught a glimpse of a
motorcycle and a khaki figure already preparing to mount. She turned her
head far enough to be sure that it was the same man. She saw him hold up
his hand, heard his voice calling to her to stop.

"No more bracelets, my friend," she thought, and her car shot forward
faster than ever.

She fancied that he must be having trouble getting his engine started,
for she did not hear the motorcycle behind her. She knew that just
before she entered the village about half a mile ahead of her there was
an unfrequented little road that ran into the highroad she was on,
almost parallel to it. If she could get on that she could let the car
out for miles and miles. The only trouble was that she would have to
turn almost completely round and, going at this pace, that wouldn't be
easy.

Presently she caught the sound of the quick, regular explosion, and the
anticipated speck appeared in her mirror. All her powers were
concentrated now on keeping her car straight on the slippery road, but
she thought grimly, "Worse for him on two wheels than for me on four."
She felt a mounting determination not to be caught--a willingness to
take any risk. Still the man on the motorcycle was gaining on her. At an
inequality in the road her front wheels veered sharply. With a quick
twist she recovered control and went straight again. She knew how to
drive, thank goodness!

With the man gaining on her, she welcomed the sight of her back road
coming in on the right. Even at the pace she could get round it, she
thought, by skidding her car; and the motorcycle couldn't but would
shoot ahead right into the village of Wide Plains, scattering