After a little he drove back across the field, sending the car forward again at reckless speed. Some vision of her grandfather, watching the machine careening over the still soft and spongy turf and leaving deep tracks behind it, made her smile. Akers leaped out.
“No need to worry about our young friend,” he said cheerfully. “He is alternately being very sick at his stomach and cursing the poor working man. But I think I'd better drive you back. He'll be poor company, I'll say that.”
He looked at her, his bold eyes challenging, belying the amiable gentleness of his smile.
“I'd better let him know.”
“I told him. He isn't strong for me. Always hate the fellow who saves you, you know. But he didn't object.”
Lily moved into his car obediently. She felt a strange inclination to do what this man wanted. Rather, it was an inability to oppose him. He went on, big, strong, and imperious. And he carried one along. It was easy and queer. But she did, unconsciously, what she had never done with Pink or any other man; she sat as far away from him on the wide seat as she could.
He noticed that, and smiled ahead, over the wheel. He had been infuriated over her avoidance of him, but if she was afraid of him—
“Bully engine in this car. Never have to change a gear.”
“You certainly made a road through the field.”
“They'll fix that, all right. Are you warm enough?”