deeper. And then another thought—a thought that came now, sharp and quick, engulfing the mere discomfort of a miserable night spent there in the woods—the clatter of busy, gossiping tongues seemed already to be dinning their abominable noises in his ears. And that he, that he—yes, it seemed to sweep upon him in a sudden, overmastering surge, the realization that the delight and joy of her companionship through the month that was gone was love that leaped now into fierce, jealous flame, maddened at a breath that would smirch her in the eyes of others—that he should be the cause of it! "What do people do when they're caught like this?"—in their innocence there seemed an unfathomed depth of irony in her words, but as he unconsciously repeated them they cleared his brain and brought him suddenly to face the immediate practical problem that confronted them. What was to be done?
"Shall—shall I get out?" she called to him, a hint of reminder in her tones that she had spoken to him before and received no answer.
Thornton moved back to the side of the car.
"Miss Vail," he said contritely, "I—I don't know what to say to you for getting you into this. I—"
"I know," she interrupted quickly, leaning over the side of the car and placing her hand on his arm. "Don't try to say anything. It's not your fault—it's not either of our faults. Now tell me what you think the best thing is to do, and, you'll
