‘So yours is the rattling tongue, is it, young madam?’ ‘I should say so. She knew the truth of it all right. Courtlaw, is it not,” she remarked, with lifted eyebrows. She recognized him as the man who had blundered into the wrong room. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. For most of a long and fluctuating night she was fairly confident that she would find work; she knew herself to be strong, intelligent, and capable by the standards of most of the girls she knew. The intruder was handsomely, even richly, attired in a scarlet riding-suit, embroidered with gold; a broad belt, to which a hanger was attached, crossed his shoulders; his boots rose above his knee, and he carried a laced hat in his hand.
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