"Why," he said pleasantly--"you misbegotten garage hound--why do you ask?"
In the same manner Jules replied: "Can't you see it's going to rain?"
Mr. Phinuit cocked a calm, observant eye heavenwards. Involuntarily but unobtrusively, under cover of the little tubbed trees that hedged the terrasse apart from the square, Duchemin did likewise, and so discovered, or for the first time appreciated, the cause of the uncommonly early dusk that loured over Nant.
Between the sentinel peaks that towered above the valley black battalions of storm cloud were fraternising, joining forces, coalescing into a vast and formidable army of ominous aspect.
"So it is," Mr. Phinuit commented amiably; indeed, not without a certain hint of satisfaction. "Blessed if you don't see everything!"
"Well, then: what about it?"
"Why, I should say you'd better find a place to put the car under cover in case it comes on to storm before we're finished--and put up the top."
"You don't mean to go on in the rain?" Jules protested--yet studiously in no tone of protest.
"But naturally..."
"How do you get that way? Do you want us all to get soaked to our skins?"