But, instead she had commissioned him otherwise. So, though his eyes
were regretful he rode on to the store. A backward glance showed him a
diminishing red tail-light disporting itself like some new species of
firefly gone quite mad; it was twisting this way and that as the road
invited; it fairly emulated the gyrations of a corkscrew what with the
added motion necessitated by the deep ruts and chuck-holes over and
into which the spinning tires were thudding.
Then the shoulder of a hill, a clump of brush, and Terry and her car
were gone from him, swallowed up in the night and silence. He looked
at his watch. It was twenty minutes after eight. She had forty miles
ahead of her, a return of forty miles.
"It will take her two hours each way," he muttered, "unless she means
to pile her car up in a ditch somewhere. Four hours for the trip.
That means I won't see her until well after midnight."
And then he grinned a shade sheepishly; Blenham was right. He had
thought of those four hours as though they had been four years.
But for her part Terry had no intention of being four hours driving a
round trip of any eighty miles that she knew of; she had never done
such a thing before and could see no cause for beginning to-night.
True, the roads were none too good at best, downright bad often enough.
Well, that was just the sort of thing she was used to.
Pages:
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218