Lanyard passed
sandwiches through the front window to Jules, who munched them while
driving like a speed maniac, and with the same appalling nonchalance
washed them down with a tumbler of champagne. Then he discovered some
manner of sorcerous power over matches in the wind, lighted a
cigarette, and signalised his sense of refreshment by smoothly edging
the indicator needle up toward the eighty notch, where he held it
stationary until Lanyard and Liane with one accord begged him to
consider their appetites.
At eight o'clock they were passing through Lisieux, one hundred and
eighteen miles from Paris.
Lanyard made mental calculations.
"The light will hold till after nine," he informed Liane. "By that time
we shall have left Caen behind."
"I understand," she said coolly; "it will be, then, after Caen."
"Presumably."
"Another hour of peace of mind!" She yawned delicately. "I think--I am
bored by this speed--I think I shall have a nap."
Composedly she arranged pillows, put her pretty feet upon the jewel
case and, turning her face from Lanyard, dozed.
"I think," he reflected, "that the world is more rich in remarkable
women than in remarkable men!"
A luminous lilac twilight vied with the street lamps of Caen when the
limousine rolled through the city at moderate speed.
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