'
'But I like it. It's an old friend. I've watched it--' He checked
himself. 'I'll go. Wait here.'
'Why aren't we going home by train?' she asked, when he returned.
'The angry man didn't see me,' he said triumphantly. 'Oh, because--
well, you wanted somewhere to cry, didn't you?'
In the closed car she sat, for a time very straight, looking out of
the window at the streets and the people, but when they had drawn away
from the old city and left its grey stone houses behind and taken to
the roads where slowly moving carts were creaking and snatches of talk
from slow-tongued country people were heard and lost in the same
moment, she sank back. The roads were dark. They were lined by tall,
bare trees which seemed to challenge this swift passage and then
decide to permit what they could not prevent, and for a mile or so the
river gleamed darkly like an unsheathed sword in the night.
'We shall soon be there, shan't we?' she asked, in a small voice.
'Yes, pretty soon.'
'I wish we wouldn't. I wish we could go on like this for ever, to the
edge of the world and then drop over and forget.'
He sighed. He could not arrange that for her but he told the man to
drive more slowly. Against the dark upholstery of the car, her face
was like a young moon, wan and too weary for its work. He slipped his
arm under her back and drew her to him. Pulling off her hat, she found
a place for her head against his shoulder and he shut his eyes.
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