Hilda had risen and gone to the door. He rose and took his coat from the peg.

“I can find my way quite well alone,” she said.

“I doubt you can’t,” he replied easily.

They tramped in ridiculous file down the lane again, in silence. An owl still hooted. He knew he ought to shoot it.

The car stood untouched, a little dewy. Hilda got in and started the engine. The other two waited.

“All I mean,” she said from her entrenchment, “is that I doubt if you’ll find it’s been worth it, either of you!”

“One man’s meat is another man’s poison,” he said, out of the darkness. “But it’s meat an’ drink to me.”

The lights flared out.

“Don’t make me wait in the morning, Connie.”