"We're not going back," he repeated deliberately.
"We are!" flashed Judith.
"We're not going back. We're never going back."
Judith drew back and stared at him, her hands still in his, and the boy stared back with a look that matched her own in his big, deeply lit, dark eyes. White faces, with angry, dark eyes, were all that they could see clearly, though they were crossing a patch of road where a ragged gap in the trees let some of the moonlight through; white faces like strangers' faces.
They were only a boy and girl jolting through the woods in the night in a rattletrap buggy behind a caricature of a horse, but what looked out of their angry eyes and spoke in their tense young voices was greater than the immediate issue of their quarrel, and older and wiser than they were; as old as the world. Ancient enemies were at war once more. A man and a woman were making their age-old fight for mastery over themselves and each other.
"Never, Judy."
"Where are we going, then?"
"What difference does it make?"
"Where?"
"To Wells. We can make it by morning. I've got the mortgage money with me."