“It seems to me,” quoth David succinctly, “that from all accounts it is wiser to dream vividly and extensively where Miss Molly Biddulph is concerned.”
And they set off down the road.
They hadn’t gone more than a hundred paces, when the first low mutter of thunder broke upon their ears. There was a second rumble, louder, more insistent. Then came the wind. It swept the dust along the road in a cloud, thick and blinding, and a few drops of rain fell.
The next instant the sky was transformed into a sea of fire, and a crash like the crash of cannon-balls broke above them. Then the rain came down.
David caught hold of Elizabeth dragging her beneath a hedge.
“Is it safe?” gasped Elizabeth.
“It would strike the trees first,” said David, “and there are none on this side of the road.”
Elizabeth crouched down. The rain slashed upon the roadway, churning the dust into a sea of mud. To right and left all vision was blotted out in the downpour, even the hedge opposite was almost obliterated.
“Are you getting very wet?” asked David solicitously.
“Hardly at all,” said Elizabeth cheerfully. “This hedge seems specially constructed to give shelter.”