She was suddenly weary. She felt just one desire: to get back home. She took Harold’s arm and led him toward the door.
“I want to go home, and I need you to drive the car.”
CHAPTER XVII
During the homeward trip Elizabeth was as one in a stupor. When they reached the brow of the hill above the village, Harold stopped the car. Elizabeth half turned about in her seat, resting her elbow on the back above and lifting her hand to her eyes to shade them from the light. She gazed upon the glory of the western sky where the sun was dropping into a bed of gold, lavishly splashing the low-hanging clouds with a radiance that seemed to drip from their edges. A shock suddenly brought her back to reality with a pain at her heart. Silhouetted against the gold of the sky-line, his head bared, his shoulders thrown back, was a tall figure: the son of Adoniah Phillips!
“That’s a good view for sore hearts, Bets,” commented her brother.
She caught her breath in quick gasps. “Yes. But, oh, Harold, it’s so hard!”