Fanny, hardly sad any more, but busy and hungry, secretly lifted the
corner of her sleeve to peer at her wrist-watch, and seeing that it was
half-past twelve, began to wonder how soon they would decide to sit down
by the roadside for their lunch. She fumbled in the pocket of the car,
but the last piece of chocolate had either been eaten or had slipped
down between the leather and the wood. She could bring up nothing better
than an old postcard, a hairpin, and a forgotten scrap of
chamois-leather.
At last they stopped for lunch, choosing a spot where a hedge rose
wirily against the midday sky, and spread the rugs on the frozen grass.
The sudden cessation of movement and noise brought a stillness into the
landscape; a child's voice startled them from the outskirts of a village
beyond, and the crackle of a wheelbarrow that was being driven along
the dry road.
The third man, who had blackberry eyes, and glasses which enlarged them,
made great preparations over the setting of the meal. They had forgotten
nothing. When they sat down, the Bearskin upon the step of the motor,
the others cross-legged upon the ground, each man had a napkin as big as
a sheet spread across the surface of his coat and waistcoat, and tied
into the band of the overcoat at the side. Bottles of red wine, and a
bottle of white to finish with, lay on a cloth spread upon the grass.
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