The wintry sun soon set behind the Hampshire hills.
The primrose of the sky faded into purple twilight; twilight was quickly merged in chilly darkness.
The car paused a moment for the kindling of its huge acetylene lamps; then rushed onward, more rapidly than before.
Diana sat on in shadow. One touch of a button would have flooded the interior of her motor with light; but she preferred the quiet darkness. In it she could better hear her husband's voice, and see the gleam of his deep earnest eyes.
"Good-bye, my wife—my wife—my wife—. Good-bye, my wife!"
Diana must have fallen asleep. The opening of the door of the motor roused her.
William had turned on the lights, lifted out the rug, and stood with it flung over his arm, waiting for her to step out.
Half dazed, she took up her hat and smoothed her tumbled hair.
She glanced at the seat beside her, almost expecting to see David.