He wore no hat upon
his heavy crop of coppery red hair--somewhere under the seat his cap was
abandoned, as usual. His face was brown with tan--a strong, fine face,
with dark-lashed hazel eyes alight under thick, dark eyebrows. From head
to foot he was a rather striking personality.
"This time," said he, firmly, "I'm going to leave the top up. It's
putting temptation in the way of something very weak to keep lowering the
top. We'll leave it up. There'll be one advantage." He looked round the
corner of the top into the face of his companion, as his hands adjusted
the straps.
"When we get to the fifty-miles-from-the-office stone, which we're going
to do in about five minutes, I can take leave of my bride without having
to observe the landscape except from the front."
"So you're going to take leave of her," observed his passenger. She did
not seem at all disturbed. As the car moved on she drew back her veil
from its position over her face, leaving her head covered only by a
close-fitting motoring bonnet of dark green, from within which her face,
vivid with the colouring born of many days driving with and without
veils, met without flinching the spatter of rain the fitful April wind
sent drifting in under the edge of the top. Her black eyelashes caught
the drops and held them.
"Yes, I'm going to say good-bye to her at that stone," repeated Burns.
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