"No, I don't know!" Miranda was thoroughly disturbed.

The contrast between the Joan she had known until this week, good-humoured, a little aloof, contented with herself and her ambitions, placid, self-contained, and this lovely girl, troubled to the heart's core, with her beseeching eyes and trembling lips touched her poignantly, meltingly.
"Oh, Joan, I don't like it!" she whispered.

"What mad thing have you done ?" "Nothing that can't be put right! Nothing! Nothing!" Joan caught eagerly at the argument.

"Oh, I was a fool! But if you'll only help me to-night, I am sure everything will be arranged." The words were bold enough, but the girl's voice trailed off into a low, unsteady whisper, as terror at the rash plan which she had made and must now carry through caught at her heart.

"Oh, Miranda, do be kind!" "When do you want the car ?" asked Miranda.
"Immediately after we get to Harrel." "Joan!" Miranda herself was growing frightened.