It was after Neufchatel that the surface of the great grey road argued neglect in no uncertain terms. For mile after mile, fat bulls of Basan, in the shape of gigantic pot-holes, gaped threateningly upon us. Berry, who was driving much better, did all that he could, but only a trick-cyclist could have picked his way between them. The car hiccoughed along piteously….
With the approach of darkness, driving became a burden, being driven a weariness of the flesh, and we were all thankful when we slid down a paved hill into the Cathedral City and, presently, past the great church and on to the very bank of the River Seine.
The others had been awaiting us for nearly two hours.
* * * * *
"With this sun," said Adèle, "they ought to be glorious."
Impiously I reflected that Berry was almost certainly enjoying his breakfast in bed.
"I expect they will," I said abstractedly.
Adèle slid an arm through mine.
"It's very sweet of you to come with me, Boy."
I stood still and looked at her.