He must be tied behind the carriage. I’ll take over here. Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. “DON’T!” she said, and wrenched her wrist from his retaining hand. The lights of the Champs Elysées and the Place de la Concorde, suggestive, brilliant, seductive, shone like an army of fireflies against the deep cool background of the night. Wood, popping her head through the window.
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