“If I could only get out and look at the damned thing!” he said, exasperated. And he sounded the horn stridently. “Perhaps Mellors can see what’s wrong.”

They waited, among the mashed flowers under a sky softly curdling with cloud. In the silence a wood-pigeon began to coo, roo-hoo hoo! roo-hoo hoo! Clifford shut her up with a blast on the horn.

The keeper appeared directly, striding inquiringly round the corner. He saluted.

“Do you know anything about motors?” asked Clifford sharply.

“I am afraid I don’t. Has she gone wrong?”

“Apparently!” snapped Clifford.

The man crouched solicitously by the wheel, and peered at the little engine.