He started the engine, and the little car shot off smoothly along the road, under the shadow of trees, out into the open country, past wide and quiet fields, past little lighted houses. They went at a terrific speed. Geraldine closed her eyes, dazed by the rush of wind against her face, the steady hum of the engine, and the dark landscape that seemed to be streaming past her like a figured scarf.
Randall did not speak again, yet she could almost believe that this wild haste was the very voice of his reckless spirit. It was as if she were listening to him all the time, as if he were telling her again that he was lost—that he didn’t know where he was going, and didn’t care.
And a very passion of regret and pity seized upon her. She did not judge him now, or remember his misdeeds. She could not see him, but she knew so well how he looked—so young, so gallant, so debonair, and so pitiful. She was not frightened; she was sorrowfully resigned to go with him, rushing through the dark, whatever their destination.
Suddenly the car slowed down. Geraldine opened her eyes, faintly surprised to find the world so quiet again.
“Need gas,” he explained.
He stopped before a little gasoline station, theatrically brilliant against the dark trees. He jumped out, lifted the hood, looked in at the engine, was satisfied; and, closing the hood, turned to speak to the man who had come out of the station.
The thing that followed was utterly unreal. Geraldine saw him standing there, bareheaded, in his dinner jacket, in that brilliant light, like an actor on a stage. He had just lit a cigarette, and was smiling at something the garage man said, when another car came by and stopped with grating brakes, a voice shouted something, and a shot rang out. Before the girl could believe that it had happened, the other car had gone on, and Randall and the garage man stood there, motionless, white, as if listening intently to the shot that still echoed in the air.
“Get his number!” the man bawled suddenly.
She saw Randall put his hand into his pocket and bring out a roll of bills. She could not hear what he said, but it was a short enough speech. The man thrust the money into his own pocket, and ran to connect the hose. Randall climbed back into the car.
“That’s enough!” he said.