,
release the brake, put out a hand, accelerate, sound the clarion and
put the wheel over simultaneously. Now, with seven limbs I could have
done it. With eight, I could also have scratched myself--an operation,
I may say, which can be no longer postponed." He drew up before a
_charcuterie_ and mopped his face. "What a beautiful bunch of
sausages!" he added. "Shall we get some? Or d'you think they'd be
dead before we get to Rouen?"

In contemptuous silence Daphne lowered her window, accosted the first
passer-by, and asked the way. An admission that it was possible to
reach the Neufchatel road without actually retracing our steps was at
length extracted, and, after a prolonged study of the plan, my sister
gave the word to proceed. Save that we twice mounted the pavement,
grazed a waggon, and literally brushed an urchin out of the way, our
emergence from Abbeville was accomplished without further incident.

With the knowledge that, barring accidents, we ought to reach Rouen by
half-past five, we ventured to devour a wayside lunch some ten minutes
later.

It was after Neufchatel that the surface of the great grey road argued
neglect in no uncertain terms. For mile after mile, fat bulls of
Basan, in the shape of gigantic pot-holes, gaped threateningly upon us.
Berry, who was driving much better, did all that he could, but only a
trick-cyclist could have picked his way between them. The car
hiccoughed along piteously....

With the approach of darkness, driving became a burden, being driven a
weariness of the flesh, and we were all thankful when we slid down a
paved hill into the Cathedral City and, presently, past the great
church and on to the very bank of the River Seine.

The others had been awaiting us for nearly two hours.

* * * * *

"With this sun," said Adele, "they ought to be glorious."

Impiously I reflected that Berry was almost certainly enjoying his
breakfast in bed.

"I expect they will," I said abstractedly.

Adele slid an arm through mine.

"It's very sweet of you to come with me, Boy."

I stood still and looked at her.

"You're a wonderful child," I said. "When you speak like that, I want
to kick myself and burst into song simultaneously. I suppose that's
Love."

"I expect so," said Adele mischievously.

Five minutes later we were standing beneath the shadow of Chartres
Cathedral.

We had come, my wife and I, to see the windows. The day before had