Part 20 (1/2)
The cab dived into another woods and ran clattering down a roving hill road. Up the opposite steep it went with a weary gait. It crawled to the top with turtle-like labor. Davidge knew the symptoms, and he frowned in the shadow, yet smiled a little.
The car went banging down, held by a squealing brake. The light grew faint, and in the glimmer there was a close shave at the edge of a hazardous bridge over a deep, deep ravine. The cab rolled forward on the rough planks under its impetus, but it picked up no speed.
Half-way across, it stopped.
”Whatever is the matter?” Marie Louise exclaimed.
Davidge leaned out and called to the driver, ”What's the matter now?”
though he knew full well.
”Gas is gone, I reckon,” the fellow snarled, as he got down. After a moment's examination he confirmed his diagnosis. ”Yep, gas is all gone. I been on the go too long on this one call.”
”In Heaven's name, where can you get some more gasolene?” said Marie Louise.
”Nearest garodge is at Rosslyn, I reckon, lady.”
”How far is that?”
”I'd hate to say, lady. Three, fo' mahls, most lahkly, and prob'ly closed naow.”
”Go wake it up at once.”
”No thanky, lady. I got mahty po' feet for them hills.”
”What do you propose to do?”
”Ain't nothin' tew dew but wait fo' somebody to come along.”
”When will that be?”
”Along todes mawnin' they ought to be somebody along, milkman or somethin'.”
”Cheerful!” said Marie Louise.
”Batt'ries kind o' sick, tew, looks lahk. I was engaged by the houah, remember,” the driver reminded them as he clambered back to his place, put his feet up on the dashboard and let his head roll into a position of ease.
The dimming lights waned and did not wax. By and by they went where lights go when they go out. There was no light now except the moonset, s.h.i.+mmering mistily across the tree-tops of the rotunda of the forest, just enough to emphasize the black of the well they were in.
CHAPTER III
How would she take it?
That was what interested Davidge most. What was she really like? And what would she do with this intractable situation? What would the situation do with her? For situations make people as well as people situations.
Now was the time for an acquaintance of souls. An almost absolute dark erased them from each other's sight. Their eyes were as useless as the useless eyes of fish in subterrene caverns. Miss Webling could have told Davidge the color of his eyes, of course, being a woman. But being a man, he could not remember the color of hers, because he had noted nothing about her eyes except that they were very eye-ish.
He would have blundered ridiculously in describing her appearance. His information of her character was all to gain. He had seen her wandering about Was.h.i.+ngton homeless among the crowds and turned from every door. She had borne the ordeal as well as could be asked. She had accepted his proffer of protection with neither terror nor a.s.surance.