They were all sufficiently amenable,
for at sight of the alarming and unprecedented onrush of the growing
speck that was bearing full down upon them, anxiety sat upon every
face.
St. George watched. And as the car drew nearer the thought which, at
first sight of its speed, had vaguely flashed into being, took
definite shape, and his blood leaped to its music. Whose hand would
be upon that lever, whose daring would be directing its flight,
whose but one in all Yaque--and that Olivia's?
It was Olivia. That was plain even in the mere instant that it took
the great, beautiful motor, at thirty miles an hour, to flash past
them. St. George saw her--coat of hunting pink and fluttering veil
and shining eyes; he was dimly conscious of another little figure
beside her, and of the unmistakable and agonized Mrs. Hastings in
the tonneau; but it was only Olivia's glance that he caught as it
swept the prince. There was the faintest possible smile, and she was
gone; and St. George, his heart pounding, sat staring stupidly after
that shining cloud of dust, frantically wondering whether she could
just possibly have seen him.
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