After several minutes Lois
rejoined George, and they went back into the crowds and the sun. She did
not speak. She did not utter one word. Only, when the numbers went up
for a certain race, she remarked:
"This is the Prix du Cadran. It's the principal race of the afternoon."
And when that was over, amid cheering that ran about the field like fire
through dried bush, she added:
"I think I ought to go back now. I told the chauffeur to be here after
the Prix du Cadran. What time is it exactly?"
They sat side by side in the long, open car, facing the chauffeur's
creaseless back. After passing the Cascade, the car swerved into the
Allee de Longchamps which led in an absolutely straight line, two miles
long, to the Port Maillot and the city. Spring decorated the magnificent
wooded thoroughfare. The side-alleys, aisles of an interminable nave,
were sprinkled with revellers and lovers and the most respectable
families half hidden amid black branches and gleams of tender green.
Automobiles and carriages threaded the main alley at varying speeds. The
number of ancient horse-cabs gradually increased until, after the
intersection of the Allee de la Reine Marguerite, they thronged the vast
road. All the humble and shabby genteel people in Paris who could
possibly afford a cab seemed to have taken a cab.
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