CHAPTER XI
IT proved to be on the second day, which was a mid-April Tuesday, rainy and cold, as it happened, with a raw wind from the north. Mr. Stanway's car appeared shortly after four-thirty, and Marjorie, upon recognizing it, stood at her window and watched it come up to the house. She had been waiting for it and she was dressed so as to be able immediately to meet Mr. Stanway but, as she observed his approach, she was seized by such a paralysis as one experiences occasionally in nightmares; she felt as if threatened with annihilation and knew she must move but she could not.
The approaching motor was a trim, dark maroon-enameled coupé of the town car pattern, which exposed the driver to the pouring rain without even a projection of the top to shelter him, while the single passenger, of course, sat in the perfect dryness and comfort of the upholstered seat behind the glass. The ostentatious use of such a car on such a day always angered Marjorie, particularly when she knew the owner possessed other cars; and it always had made her father indignant. He never let himself be guilty of such disregard of any one in his employ. When Leonard drove in bad weather, it was in a Berline, which protected him, too.
Marjorie suddenly found herself freed from her seizure of helplessness and she hastened into the hall
