“Here we are at the Hammonds', and—thank you,” she said.
Any reply he might have made was forestalled. The insistent and intolerant horn of an automobile, followed now by the scream of the gears, broke the stillness of the country-side, and a familiar voice cried out—“Do you want the whole road?”
Austen turned into the Hammonds' drive as the bulldog nose of a motor forged ahead, and Mr. Crewe swung in the driver's seat.
“Hello, Victoria,” he shouted, “you people ought to have ear-trumpets.”
The car swerved, narrowly missed a watering fountain where the word “Peace” was inscribed, and shot down the hill.
“That manner,” said Victoria, as she jumped out of the buggy, “is a valuable political asset.”
“Does he really intend to go into politics?” Austen asked curiously.
“'Intend' is a mild word applied to Humphrey,” she answered; “'determined' would suit him better. According to him, there is no game that cannot be won by dynamics. 'Get out of the way' is his motto. Mrs. Pomfret will tell you how he means to cover the State with good roads next year, and take a house in Washington the year after.” She held out her hand. “Good-by,—and I am ever so much obliged to you for bringing me here.”
He drove away towards Ripton with many things to think about, with a last picture of her in his mind as she paused for an instant in the flickering shadows, stroking Pepper's forehead.