"Quite like the Front," Terry cried cheerfully; "I expect you feel at home when you hear a noise like that."
Tabs looked round. He had been too busy talking to notice where they were. To the right, through wind-rumpled, tree-dotted meadows ran the Thames, still intensely silver in the sunshine, but somehow blither and more young than in London. Clouds flew high; everything was riotously spacious. Scattered through the vivid stretch of landscape ivy-covered houses stood squarely in their park-lands. Set down in the level distance, like children's toys, cattle browsed. The quiet greenness had become starred as far as eye could carry with a gentle rain of myriad tinted petals.
"The car's got a sense of beauty," he laughed; "it chooses carefully when it wants to break down."
"And it's all at the Government's expense," Terry smiled, glancing back at him across her shoulder as she scrambled out. "So it's a back tire. How long will it take to put right, Prentys?—— Then we may as well walk and let you overtake us. I don't think we're more than a mile from Old Windsor. We'll get something to eat at the little inn by the riverside. You remember the one I mean? We've been there several times when the General was with us."
"What General is that?" Tabs asked as they trudged along between the hedges.
"The General who lent me the car," she replied.
"Oh, your friend at the War Office! I suppose he's one of the dug-outs who's been there all the time."
"He isn't. He rose from the ranks. He's only been at a desk job since the Armistice." She spoke defensively, with a certain resentment. Tabs was quick to detect the sharpness in her voice. "I'm sorry," he apologized; "I didn't mean anything unkind."
She halted with a sudden gesture of concern. "I am inconsiderate. I never thought of it. Won't this walking wear you out?"