The wind and rain had cleared the unfrequented suburb of any observant lounger, and the darkness, lit only by far-spaced, gusty lamps, hid her hastening figure.

She had barely crossed the second street when she heard the quick clatter of hoofs behind her; a buggy drove up to the curbstone, and Poindexter leaped out.

She entered quickly, but for a moment he still held the reins of the impatient horse.

"He's rather fresh," he said, eying her keenly; "are you sure you can manage him ?" "Give me the reins," she said simply.
He placed them in the two firm, well-shaped hands that reached from the depths of the vehicle, and was satisfied.

Yet he lingered.
"It's rough work for a lone woman," he said, almost curtly.