“That’s the way of the world,” said Elizabeth. “It’s an irrational age. And Nature’s catching the disease.”
Neither spoke again, till the last turn had been taken and Pembury had berthed the coupé under the shelter of some trees. My lady’s home lay farther, by twenty paces.
The girl stared.
“Why have you stopped, Dick?”
The other smiled.
“Would you like a drink, Dot?”
Elizabeth caught his arm.
“Not my favourite beverage? I can’t bear it.”
“The same,” laughed Pembury. “In the pocket by your side is an imperial pint of beer——”
“Dick, you darling!”