Simon let the wheel drop, and philosophically revived his cigarette.
“The nearest garage is back at Lion Rock,” he remarked. “I’ll leave word there later if you like. Or could I take you anywhere?”
The man said, “We were heading for the Circle Y — it’s three miles further on, off this road.”
“Visiting?”
“No. I... er... I happen to own it.”
“When were you going to be back at Lion Rock?” asked the girl. “We don’t want to take you out of your way, but it’s getting late. I mean...”
The Saint smiled down at her, rumpling his dark hair with apparent thoughtfulness. It was indeed getting late, as he had hoped it would be: bright as it still was, the sun was already dipping towards the high range to westward, and under the slanting light the barren battlements that ringed three of their horizons were putting on soft chiffons of rose and purple against the promise of an early twilight.
He said, “It might be quite a while before I see Lion Rock again. Perhaps I’d better take you to the Circle Y and you can send in to the garage tomorrow.”
“We hate to trouble you,” said the white-haired man half-heartedly.
“Don’t give it another thought,” said the Saint. “Have you got any parcels or things you want to take along?”