“Didn’t really hurt him?” asked Myra.
“No.”
“Do please stop!” said Margaret, leaning forward. She was standing up in the car, the other occupants holding her knees to steady her. “I want to go back, please.”
Charles took no notice.
“We’ve left Mr. Fussell behind,” said another; “and Angelo, and Crane.”
“Yes, but no woman.”
“I expect a little of”—Mrs. Warrington scratched her palm—“will be more to the point than one of us!”
“The insurance company sees to that,” remarked Charles, “and Albert will do the talking.”
“I want to go back, though, I say!” repeated Margaret, getting angry.
Charles took no notice. The motor, loaded with refugees, continued to travel very slowly down the hill. “The men are there,” chorused the others. “Men will see to it.”