At Evreux we halted for petrol. I proposed déjeuner, she shook her head naughtily. “Where are we going?” “Over there, to the West.” “Any particular spot in the West?” “You’ll see presently.” “How about the theatre?” “Time enough,” she said. She spoke breathlessly, remaining at the wheel while the man was filling the tank. Somehow it seemed to me that the town had come between us; we understood one another better when the garden of the world was flying past us. Before the man was paid, she had turned on the power. As we lunged forward, he jumped aside and I flung the money out. Our wild ride towards the Eden of the forbidden future recommenced. Presently, without turning her head, she broke the silence. “Slip your arm round me, old boy; my back grows tired.” I placed my arm about the slender, upright figure and slid my shoulder behind her, so she leant against me. “What’s the idea, Fiesole? Paolo and Francesca?” “And Adam and Eve, if you like; and Dan Leno and Herbert Campbell; and Joseph Parker and Jane Cake-bread. Anything, so long as we keep going.” When I attempted to speak again, she turned on more power and threw me a smile which was a threat. I clasped her closer. “Little devil! I’ll keep quiet. You needn’t do that.” But though I kept quiet my heart beat madly. The panorama of change sweeping by, with her face the one thing constant, quickened and emphasized my need of her more than any spoken tenderness. Our thoughts merged and interchanged with a subtlety that speech could never have accomplished. The pressure of her body, the tantalizing joy of her nearness and forbiddenness, the imminence of death, the law of silence--these summed up in a moment’s experience the entire philosophy of love, and of life itself. I began to understand her meaning, her language; she was temporizing as I had temporized at Venice; but instead of going away from me, she was fleeing with me from circumstance. She was telling me of her woman’s pride--her difficulty to make herself attainable after what had happened. She loved me and she hated me. She drew me to her and she thrust me from her. She could not forget and she dreaded to remember. And she said all this when, in escaping, she took me with her.