"My dream, Brigitte," he went on, his thought answering hers, "was about
you. You were so unhappy, poor child, and I was trying to help you, but
could not reach you. It was very dreadful, for I could hear you call to
me."
"How--pathetic," she answered, with stiffening lips. "But--would you
like to go motoring?" He nodded delightedly, for his mouth was full of
toast.
"I _love_ it," he went on, a moment later, "I love to go fast, fast,
fast. It is wonderful. What is your car?"
"It is mother's; nothing very remarkable in the way of speed, I fear.
Would you care to go for a drive, Lady Brinsley?"
But Lady Brinsley had letters to write, and no one else volunteering
for the excursion, half-past eleven found Brigit and Joyselle in the
tonneau of the car, and Theo sitting with the chauffeur.
"Go to Kletchley, Hubbard."
It was a cold, grey day, with a steely sky and a wind that threatened to
be high later on. Brigit's cap was tied on firmly with a strong green
veil, but she wore nothing over her face, and the chill air made her
feel better. She had not slept at all, and was tired, although nothing
in her aspect betrayed the fact. All night her mind had been busy with
its new-found problem, and the unusual presence of her mother had made
her very nervous.
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