She plunged with utter mournfulness in his track through the fern, and came to a huge holly hedge. He was just behind her.

“Here! Go through there!” he said, pointing to a gap. “I shan’t come out.”

She looked at him in despair. But he kissed her and made her go. She crept in sheer misery through the holly and through the wooden fence, stumbled down the little ditch and up into the lane, where Hilda was just getting out of the car in vexation.

“Why, you’re there!” said Hilda. “Where’s he ?”

“He’s not coming.”

Connie’s face was running with tears as she got into the car with her little bag. Hilda snatched up the motoring helmet with the disfiguring goggles.