He did not answer—did not speak even, when as they left the Piers' place it became necessary to choose their road. He chose without consultation.
"But do you know where I live?" she asked.
"Be content for once to be a passenger," he replied.
The answer had the good fortune to please. She leaned back, clasping her hands in her lap, relaxing all her muscles.
On the highroad she was less aware of the moon, for the headlights made the mist visible like a wall about them. She felt as if she were running through a new element and could detect nothing outside the car. She was detached from all previous experience, content to be, as he had said, for once a passenger. This was a new sensation. She remembered what Ilseboro had said about her being a bully. Well, she'd try the other thing to-night. She only hoped it wouldn't end in some sort of a scene. She glanced up at her companion's profile. It looked quiet enough, but she decided that she had better not go on much longer without making him speak. Her ear was well attuned to human vibrations, and if there were a certain low tremor in his voice—well, then it would be better to go straight home.
"This is rather extraordinary, isn't it?" she said. This might be interpreted in a number of ways.
"Yes, it is," he said, exactly matching her tone.
She tried him again.
"Did you enjoy the evening?" It seemed almost certain that he would answer tenderly, "I'm enjoying this part of it."
"It was good bridge," he said.