irresponsible, and unlearned in history. Poor simpletons! Had not
theirs always been the power behind the throne? What more did they
want?

Her cogitations were peculiarly interrupted. The door opened, and a
man plumped down beside her.

"Enid, it looks as if we'd never get out of this hole. Have you got
your collar up?"

Numb and terrified, Kitty felt the man's hands fumbling about her neck.

"Where's your sable stole? You women beat the very devil for
thoughtlessness. A quid to a farthing, you've left it in the box, and
I'll have to go back for it, providing they'll let me in. And it's
midnight, if a minute."

Pressing herself tightly into her corner, Kitty managed to gasp: "My
name is not Enid, sir. You have mistaken your carriage."

"What? Good heavens!" Almost instantly a match sparkled and flared.
His eyes, screened behind his hand, palm outward (a perfectly natural
action, yet nicely calculated), beheld a pretty, charming face, large
Irish blue eyes (a bit startled at this moment), and a head of hair as
shiny-black as polished Chinese blackwood. The match, still burning,
curved like a falling star through the window. "A thousand pardons,
madam! Very stupid of me. Quite evident that I am lost. I beg your
pardon again, and hope I have not annoyed you."

He was gone before she could form any retort. Where had she heard that