‘I was so happy in Salisbury,’ he said, ‘that I never thought about the petrol. I’m the most hopeless blighter.’
‘But what are we to do?’ asked Catherine earnestly.
‘I’m hanged if I know,’ he said.
Again they stared at each other in silence. The night seemed to have descended on them now with the suddenness of a huge swooping bird.
‘I suppose we had better leave it here and walk on,’ she said. ‘It seems a dreadful thing to do, but there’s a chance perhaps of our meeting some one or getting somewhere. Or couldn’t we push it? Is it very heavy?’
‘I could push it for two miles, perhaps, but that would be about the limit.’
‘But I’d help.’
‘You!’
He smiled at her, miserable as he was.
‘We might strike the main road,’ he said, gazing across the dim space to where—how many miles away?—it probably lay.