Decision made that she would wheedle out all that there was to know about Ruby Morgan, Clarissa settled back in the seat and deliberately moved the conversation to the meeting and Lady Russell, speaking lightly and humorously. She had plenty of time for her questions and the girl was looking rather pale and wan; she’d feel better after some refreshments.

The car was fairly flying along now as far as Ruby was concerned but after the initial apprehension she found she was enjoying the experience. She had read in the newspapers how most country people hated the cars and motorcycles that dashed at twenty miles per hour through narrow lanes bringing noise, fumes and danger; previously isolated villagers dreading the invasion of picnickers on summer Sundays with the attendant horrors of empty bottles and waste paper. There had been stories about ordinary working folk encouraging their children to throw stones at the passing gentry in their vehicles or to scatter nails and broken glass on the roads, and she had had sympathy with them, but now she had to admit riding in a motor car was thrilling. Some ex-servicemen had bought motorcycles with sidecars with their demobilization grants, and there were often a number of these to be seen parked in terraced streets, but now she realized that the luxury of riding in a motor car was something else entirely. How the other half lived.

It hardly took any time at all to reach the outskirts of the town, and then they were travelling along country roads. Clarissa kept up an easy chatter and Ruby found she only had to respond with the occasional answer, which was just as well. In truth she was feeling quite overwhelmed by all that had occurred in the last hour and by the situation in which she now found herself.

They passed one or two farms, pale shimmering fields of freshly mown hay making mosaics against grain fields mellowing to the bronze of harvest and fields where sheep and cattle grazed contentedly in the late-afternoon sun, and drove through several little hamlets dozing in the sunshine. Thatched cottages with gardens bursting with flowers, children playing on a village green, hens clucking as Pearson sounded his horn to send them scurrying off the road and dogs barking at the strange and noisy apparition invading their domain. It was a different world to the town. Ruby had thought she was adventurous moving from Sunderland to Newcastle, but now it dawned on her that within a few miles of the towns lay a different England, one with so much open space it was incredible.