“But you said you meant to give up motoring.”
“So I do; which is an additional reason why I should drive it to-night, when I have the excuse.”
“Do you like the thing?” exclaimed Bernard.
“Don’t you like that handsome chestnut of yours?”
“Yes, but that’s different. A horse has sense; you can’t compare it to that beastly, snorting, smelling thing.”
“If you’d ever driven a motor, you’d be ready to declare that it had sense, too; machinery’s almost human, sometimes.”
Bernard was wholly unconvinced, and thought the stranger a little mad. “You’d much better come on with me,” he said.
“Thanks very much; but I have to get on to Monkswell this evening, and then back to Swanborough. I came this cross-country route because I thought I should have it to myself and could drive fast.”
“Are you going to Monkswell?”
“I am; do you know it?”