“What men?”
“We’re holding up a couple of fellows. I’ll wave to them.”
“You will do nothing of the sort,” cried Mrs. Fisher. “The idea!”
“But, darling—”
“Why should they go through us? We started before them.”
“But, pettie—”
“They shall not pass!” said Mrs. Fisher. And, raising her mashie, she dug a grim divot out of the shrinking turf. With bowed head, Bradbury followed her on the long, long trail.
The sun was sinking as they came at last to journey’s end.
“How right Vosper is!” said Mrs. Fisher, nestling into the cushions of the automobile. “I feel ever so much better already.”
“Do you?” said Bradbury wanly. “Do you?”