"Some day no one will believe that men were ever so foolish as to trust themselves to draught animals," he remarked. "Hullo! Look out! The horror of it!"
A large oil van—a huge drum on wheels—motor-driven, had come round the corner, and after a preliminary and quite insufficient hoot, bore down upon them, and missing Trafford as it seemed by a miracle, swept past. Both drivers did wonderful things with whips and reins, and found themselves alone in the road again, with their wheels locked and an indefinite future.
"I leave the situation to you," said Trafford. "Or shall we just sit and talk until the next motor car kills us?"
"We ought to make an effort," said Marjorie, cheerfully, and descended to lead the two beasts.
Assisted by an elderly hedger, who had been taking a disregarded interest in them for some time, she separated the wheels and got the two donkeys abreast. The old hedger's opinion of their safety on the king's highway was expressed by his action rather than his words; he directed the beasts towards a shady lane that opened at right angles to the road. He stood by their bridles while Marjorie resumed her seat.
"It seems to me clearly a case for compromise," said Trafford. "You want to go that way, I want to go that way. Let us both go this way. It is by such arrangements that civilization becomes possible."
He dismissed the hedger generously and resumed his reins.
"Shall we race?" he asked.
"With your leg?" she inquired.
"No; with the donkeys. I say, this is rather a lark. At first I thought it was both dangerous and dull. But things have changed. I am in beastly high spirits. I feel there will be a cry before night; but still, I am——I wanted the companionship of an unbroken person. It's so jolly to meet you again."