“You? You get the hang of things so quick.”
Holly slid her hand into his coat-pocket.
“You keep one in the know,” said Val encouraged. “What do you think of that Belgian fellow, Profond?”
“I think he's rather 'a good devil.'”
Val grinned.
“He seems to me a queer fish for a friend of our family. In fact, our family is in pretty queer waters, with Uncle Soames marrying a Frenchwoman, and your Dad marrying Soames's first. Our grandfathers would have had fits!”
“So would anybody's, my dear.”
“This car,” Val said suddenly, “wants rousing; she doesn't get her hind legs under her uphill. I shall have to give her her head on the slope if I'm to catch that train.”
There was that about horses which had prevented him from ever really sympathising with a car, and the running of the Ford under his guidance compared with its running under that of Holly was always noticeable. He caught the train.
“Take care going home; she'll throw you down if she can. Good-bye, darling.”