Dark and light moved across the face of the falling day.
Sometimes when she lifted her eyes great clouds full of rain were
crossing the sky; and now, when she looked again the wind had torn them
to shreds and hunted them away. The shadows lengthened--those of the few
trees falling in bars across the road. A turn of the road brought the
setting sun in her face, and blinded with light, she drove into it. When
it had gone it left rays enough behind to colour everything, gilding the
road itself, the air, the mists that hung in the ditches.
Before the light was gone she saw the Ardennes forests begin upon her
left.
When it was gone, wood and road, air and earth, were alike stone-
coloured. Then the definite night, creeping forward on all sides,
painted out all but the road and the margin of the road--and with the
side lights on all vision narrowed down to the grey snout of the bonnet,
the two hooped mudguards stretched like divers' arms, and the blanched
dead leaves which floated above from the unseen branches of the trees.
Four crazy Fords were drawn up in one village street, and as her lights
flashed on the door she caught sight of the word "Cafe" written on it.
Placing the Renault beside the Fords she opened the door. Within five
Frenchmen were drinking at one table, and four Americans at another.
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