"It's an open road," returned Christopher, "I know what I'm at. I expect I enjoy life as much as you do." He slowed down suddenly, however, to about twenty miles an hour to pass an old woman in a donkey cart, and the hateful thought swept on in advance apparently, for he overtook it again when their speed ran up ten points. Christopher had chosen a rather circuitous route which offered fewer villages than the general high-road. It was a glorious day, the banks were starry with primroses, and all the hedgerows, just bursting into green rosettes, were hunting ground for birds innumerable. Green emerald grass in water-meadows, fresh green growth on the hillside, and red bud and green promise hung from every tree. The crisp air whispered warnings of frosts still to come, but braced the nerve and gladdened the heart nevertheless, and called imperiously to youth to seek its kingdom. Christopher was at no pains to spare the nerves of the master of millions, and though he invariably crept through villages and towns sedately and drove with an eye for crossroads and distant specks on the white track before him, they swept through the open country with a breathless rush. How good it would have gone alone, Christopher thought savagely, and resentment rose high in his heart. He was going to meet Patricia for the first time with understanding eyes. In the past months his love had grown with steady insistence until the imperious voice of spring, singing in concord with it, had overridden the decision of his stubborn will, demanding surrender, clamorous for recognition, and now having allowed the claim he was again forced back on the unsolved question of his own history. It was as if some imp of mischief had coupled his love to the Past, and had left him without knowledge to loose the secret knot. The silence became intolerable for fear of the next words that might break it from his companion. It would be better to take control himself--so he slackened speed a little and had the satisfaction of hearing Peter Masters heave a relieved sigh. "The roads here need re-making," as they proceeded bumpily over a rather bad piece of ground. "For motors?" "For everything. A road should be easy going for motors, horses, and foot-passengers. Easy and safe." "How would you do it?" "A raised causeway for walkers; a road for carriages, and a track for motors. It only means so many yards more and there is plenty of land. Look at that turf--four yards of it. Might as well be road." "What are you going to make your roads of?" Christopher took a deep breath; the pace of the car increased a little. "That has to be found--will be found. It is a question of time." "And you mean to find it?" "A good many people mean to find it." Masters shook his head. "It won't pay you so well as iron, Master Christopher. My offer is still open." Christopher was so surprised that he nearly swerved into an unfenced pond they were passing.