“And Monsieur Blanc was annoyed. He will visit you here; I could not get rid of the fellow.”
Manon frowned.
“Most men are such fools. I wish you would put Monsieur Bibi in your cauldron and boil the conceit out of him. But, Marie, I want Etienne to drive me into Amiens, and perhaps you will come with me. Will it be possible to-morrow? I will pay Etienne for the horse and his time. I have things to buy in Amiens.”
Veuve Castener saw no impossibility in driving to Amiens. It was an adventure, and she would not have to use her legs.
“I will arrange it with Etienne.”
Manon spent the evening in drawing out a list of all that she and Brent needed.
At the end of the list she jotted down a rather cryptic note.
“Try and get hold of a pistol for Paul.”
XVII
The expedition to Amiens started at an early hour. A big brown horse pulled the big brown cart, with Manon wedged in between Veuve Castener and her son. Marie, her round red face shining from the wrappings of a black shawl, overflowed with a great bunching of skirts over one mud-guard, her right arm round Manon’s waist. Etienne, equally big and heavy, overflowed on the other side. Manon looked like a child between them—the centre of intelligence between two bulging bodies. Her eyes were bright, for Manon was happy.