standing.  Each time this was in process of happening Jenny gave a small excited chuckle, thinking of the speed, and the ease, and of how the people in the tram must feel at being defeated in the race.  Every such encounter became a race, in which she pressed physically forward as if to urge her steed to the final effort.  Never had Jenny teen so eager for victory, so elated when its certainty was confirmed.  It was worth while to live for such experience.  How she envied her driver!  With his steady hands upon the steering wheel....  Ah, he was like a sailor, like the sailor of romance, with the wind beating upon his face and his eyes ever-watchful.  And under his hand the car rode splendidly to Keith.

Jenny closed her eyes.  She could feel her heart beating fast, and the blood heating her cheeks, reddening them.  The blood hurt her, and her mouth seemed to hurt, too, because she had smiled so much.  She lay back, thinking of Keith and of their meetings—­so few, so long ago, so indescribably happy and beautiful.  She always remembered him as he had been when first he had caught her eye, when he had stood so erect among other men who lounged by the sea, smoking and lolling at ease.  He was different, as she was different.  And she was going to him.  How happy she was!  And why did her breath come quickly and her heart sink?  She could not bother to decide that question.  She was too excited to do so.  In all her life she had never known a moment of such breathless anticipation, of excitement which she believed was all happiness.

There was one other thought that Jenny shirked, and that went on nevertheless in spite of her inattention, plying and moulding somewhere deep below her thrilling joy.  The thought was, that she must not show Keith that she loved him, because while she knew—­she felt sure—­that He loved her, she must not be the smallest fraction of time before him in confession.  She was too proud for that.  He would tell her that he loved her; and the spell would be broken.  Her shyness would be gone; her bravado immediately unnecessary.  But until then she must beware.  It was as necessary to Keith’s pride as to her own that he should win her.  The Keith she loved would not care for a love too easily won.  The consciousness of this whole issue was at work below her thoughts; and her thoughts, from joy and dread, to the discomfort of doubt, raced faster than the car, speedless and headlong.  Among them were two that bitterly corroded.  They were of Pa and of Keith’s confidence that she would come.  Both were as poison in her mind.

ii

And then there came a curious sense that something had happened.  The car stopped in darkness, and through the air there came in the huge tones of Big Ben the sound of a striking hour.  It was nine o’clock.  They were back at Westminster.  Before her was the bridge, and above was the lighted face of the clock, like some faded sun.  And the strokes rolled out in swelling waves that made the whole atmosphere feel soundladen.  The chauffeur had opened the door of the car, and was offering his free hand to help Jenny to step down to the ground.