urface, seemed endless. We had
started late, according to our promise, and having lost more than an hour
on the "short cut," grey wings of twilight began at last to fold in the
landscape. It was long since we had passed a village; Manzanares was not
yet near, and I began to wonder whether the Gloria would not again grow
thirsty before we could give her drink.

Turn after turn; always the same jolting; always the same scene, till our
minds wearied. Then, suddenly rounding a bend, we came upon something
which made every one of us forget boredom.

There was the Duke's car--the grey car which we had sworn to avoid--stuck in
a _caniveau_ that cut the road in two. There were Carmona and his
chauffeur staring balefully into the inner workings of the motor; there
were the Duchess and Lady Vale-Avon, dust-powdered and disconsolate,
sitting forlornly on roadside hillocks; and there was Monica, her veil
off, walking up and down impatiently with her little hands buried in the
pockets of her grey coat, the last gleam of sunset finding a responsive
note in the gold of her hair.

"What did I tell you!" exclaimed Pilar. "The goat-herd! The mule with the
white feet! It's the luck of the Dream-Book!"

XXIII

THE GLORIFICATION OF MONICA

Slowing up, we were almost upon the group; and for once we were welcome to
our enemies. Even Carmona's face brightened, a flicker of hope lit Lady
Vale-Avon's grey eyes; and the Duchess deliberately courted us with a
smile.

As for Monica, she was radiant as a child who has been surprised by the
home-coming of loved ones; yet there was a new wistfulness in her eyes,
despite the joy she showed.

"Oh, how glorious that you've come to the rescue!" she cried, all dimples
and roses. Still, she looked from me to Pilar, and from Pilar to me, as if
she longed to ask one or the other some question which it was impossible
to speak; and I said to myself that it would go hard with me if I did not
find out before I was many hours older, what that question was.

Any port is welcome in a storm or among fellow-motorists, if you are
helpless by the roadside with several ladies when night is coming on; and
Carmona's first words showed that he had no scruple in making use of us.
But with the trials he had gone through, and his natural preference for
the help of any other car rather than the hated Gloria, he was in a black
mood. He wished to be civil, lest we should be