"One of the old school, in fact. Well, well...." We swept round a corner, and I nodded ahead. "See that ridge in front of us? Well, that's Fallow Hill. The village lies close, just on the other side."
"What are you going to do with the car?" said Adèle.
"They'll let me lock her up—don't be shocked—at the brewery. I know them there."
"You'll admit it sounds bad."
"Yes, but it smells lovely. You wait. For that reason alone, I should vote against Prohibition. The honest scent of brewing, stealing across the meadows on a summer eve, is one of the most inspiring things I know."
"But what a man!" said Adèle. "'Books in the running brooks, Virtue in vats, and good in everything.' Nobby," she added reproachfully, "why didn't you tell me he was a poet?" The Sealyham put his head on one side, as if desiring her to repeat the question. "Oh, you cute thing!" And, with that, my lady bent and kissed the terrier between the bright brown eyes.
I put the wheel over hard, and the car swerved violently.
"For Heaven's sake!" cried Miss Feste. "What are you doing?"
"It's your fault," said I. "I'm only human. Besides, he doesn't deserve it."
Adèle flung me a dazzling smile, made as though she would say something, and then, apparently changing her mind, relapsed into a provoking silence....