The great coach swayed its way on up through the woods into the hills, over a road never too good and now worse than usual.

They had thirty miles or more to drive, most of it after dark.

Could they make that distance in time?
Dunwody, moody, silent, yet tense, keyed to the highest point, now made little comment.

Even when left alone, he ventured upon no intimate theme with his companion in the coach; nor did she in turn speak upon any subject which admitted argument.

Once she congratulated him upon his recovery from what had seemed so dangerous a hurt.
"But that is nothing now," he said.