"Beg pardon, but the machine's out of order, my lord, and her ladyship's just going out in the carriage."
"Why is it out of order? Hicks is a fool. Ask Lady Thryng to wait. No, pack my bag and send my boxes on after me as they are. I'll speak to her myself."
He threw off his jacket, thrust his cap in his pocket, and dashed away, pulling on his coat as he went, holding the crushed pages of the letter in his hand. He overtook his mother as she was walking down the terrace.
"Mother, wait," he cried, "I'm going with you. Where's Laura?"
"She was coming. I can't think what is delaying her."
David hurried on to the carriage. "Get in, mother, I'll take her place. Get in, get in. We must be off."
"David, are you out of your head?"
"Yes, mother. Drive on, drive on. I must catch the first train for Liverpool—I may catch it. Put the horses through, John. Make them sweat," he said, leaning out of the carriage window.
"Explain yourself, David. Are you in trouble?"
"Yes, mother. Wait a little."
She looked at her son and saw his mouth set, his eyes stern and