“Over there, to the West.”
“Any particular spot in the West?”
“You’ll see presently.”
“How about the theatre?”
“Time enough,” she said.
She spoke breathlessly, remaining at the wheel while the man was filling the tank. Somehow it seemed to me that the town had come between us; we understood one another better when the garden of the world was flying past us.
Before the man was paid, she had turned on the power. As we lunged forward, he jumped aside and I flung the money out. Our wild ride towards the Eden of the forbidden future recommenced.
Presently, without turning her head, she broke the silence. “Slip your arm round me, old boy; my back grows tired.”
I placed my arm about the slender, upright figure and slid my shoulder behind her, so she leant against me.
“What’s the idea, Fiesole? Paolo and Francesca?”