'Why, whose fault was that? I should have been all right, except that I
couldn't understand why you had run the chance of killing yourself.'

'I don't think I should have cared very much that morning,' said Alma
idly. 'I was more miserable than you can imagine.'

'Why?'

'Oh, I don't know -- foolishness. But you never gave me a word of
praise, and I'm sure I deserved it. Why, she galloped with me like mad
for nearly two miles, and I never lost hold of the reins, and I pulled
her up by myself and got her round, and drove back to meet you as if
nothing had happened. I told Mrs. Abbott all about it, and she was
astonished at my pluck.'

'Must have been. So am I.'

'I doubt it. I doubt whether you ever think much of anything I do.'

'That's rather unkind, because you know it isn't true.'

'I always thought very much the same, you know.'

'Rubbish! But come, what are we going to do? Naples seems out of the
question; but there's no reason why we shouldn't go to meet them in
London.'

'You would much rather wait here, and let them come,' said Alma. 'I
don't care particularly about going away. So long as we keep on good