They proceeded slowly, stopping from time to time. Harvey was puzzled by
this unpunctuality; it would soon be a quarter to two. He began to feel
hungry, and his companion looked tired. Of a sudden they heard the sound
of a vehicle approaching behind them.

'It can't be Alma. She wouldn't have gone farther than ----'

But the horse appeared round the curve of the road, and behind it was a
dogcart, and in the dogcart sat Alma, alone. At sight of them she pulled
up abruptly, so abruptly that the horse reared a little. Harvey walked
forward.

'You've been driving yourself?'

'Of course. Why not?' replied Alma in a strangely high key.

'How have we missed you?'

As he put this question he became aware of something very unusual in his
wife's appearance. Alma was pallid and shaking; her small felt hat had
got out of position, and her hair was disordered, giving her a wild,
rakish aspect. He saw, too, that the horse dripped with sweat; that it
glared, panted, trembled, and could not for a moment stand still.

'What on earth have you been doing? She's run away with you!'

'No, no!' cried Alma, laughing, as she looked at Mrs. Abbott, who had
just come up. 'She was rather fresh, and I gave her a good run, that's
all. I'm sorry I missed you at the place ----'