"Mr.Sheridan," she began, not knowing what she was going to say, but impelled to say anything, as she realized the queerness of this drive--"Mr.Sheridan, I--" The coupe stopped.

"You, JOE!" said the driver, reproachfully, and climbed down and opened the door.
"What's the trouble ?" Bibbs inquired.
"Lady said stop at the first house north of Mr.Sheridan's, sir." Mary was incredulous; she felt that it couldn't be true and that it mustn't be true that they had driven all the way without speaking.
"What ?" Bibbs demanded.
"We're there, sir," said the driver, sympathetically.

"Next house north of Mr.Sheridan's." Bibbs descended to the curb.

"Why, yes," he said.

"Yes, you seem to be right." And while he stood staring at the dimly illuminated front windows of Mr.Vertrees's house Mary got out, unassisted.
"Let me help you," said Bibbs, stepping toward her mechanically; and she was several feet from the coupe when he spoke.
"Oh no," she murmured.