"But what a fine trick!" he said aloud. "No wonder it works!"
He dozed himself presently, nodding till his forward-pitching head would waken him. Afterward he heard Spike saying: "So dark you can't see your hand before your face." He came awake. His head was on Patricia's shoulder, her arm supporting him.
"You must have gone to sleep and let the car stop," she told him. He stared sleepily, believing it. "But I want my breakfast," she reminded him. He sat up, winking the sleep from his eyes, shaking it from his head.
"Of course," he said.
He looked again out over the land to which an old device had inveigled him. A breeze had come with the dawn, stirring the grain fields into long ripples. At the roadside was the tossing silver of birch leaves.
"This is one whale of a day for us two, isn't it?" he demanded.
"You said it!" she told him.
"Breakfast and a license and—"
"You know it!" she declared.
"Still afraid?"