"Roland," I cried, "Roland, will you lend me your car?"
"But 'ave I not said——"
"Now—at once—here—to drive to Bordeaux?"
Roland looked up at my face.
The next moment he was out of his seat.
"Yes, but I am not going with you," he said. Then: "What is the matter? Never mind. You will tell me after. The lights are good, and she is full up with gasolene. I tell you, you will be there in three hours."
"Make it two and three-quarters," said I.
* * * * *
The day's traffic had dwindled to a handful of home-going gigs, and as we swung out of the Rue Montpensier and on to the Bordeaux road, a distant solitary tram was the only vehicle within sight.
I settled down in my seat….