"Very well," Beatrice then said quietly. "Tell Travers Sahib I shall be
delighted. Paul need not bring round the carriage."
The ayah retired, and with an undisturbed calm Beatrice proceeded to slip
into her evening cloak.
"At any rate, he hasn't spoken yet," she said. "Fate seems to mean well
with you, mother."
"It all depends on you, Beatrice," the other returned impressively.
"Do you think so? Well, I have half-an-hour's drive before
me--tete-a-tete. I dare say I shall manage. Good night!" She patted her
mother lightly on the hand as she passed her on the way to the door.
"Good-by, my dear. Do your best, won't you?"
"Haven't I been brought up to do my best?" Beatrice answered with a laugh.
She hurried on to the verandah which faced out on the drive, the ayah
accompanying her with numerous wraps and shawls. Archibald Travers, who
had remained seated, greeted her with a cheerful wave of the whip.
"Please excuse my getting down, Miss Cary," he said. "My horse is in a
state of mind which does not allow for politeness. Can you trust yourself
to his tender care?"
"I am not in the least nervous," she answered, scrambling up to his side,
"and a drive through this lovely air is worth a few risks. I was dreading
the half-hour alone in our stuffy brougham."
"I'm glad I came, then," he said. "I heard that Mrs. Cary was ill and
could not go, but I was not sure whether you would care for it.
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