need for caution. She saw a Ford roll over, leave the road, and drop
into the ditch. The wild American who had driven it to its death, pulled
himself up upon the road, and limping, hailed a passing lorry, and went
upon his way.

She saw a horse gallop out of a camp with a terrified Annamite upon its
back. Horse and Annamite shot past her on the road, the yellow man's
eyes popping from his head, his body slipping, falling, falling. When
she would have slowed the car to watch the end of the flight her client
cried to her: "Why do you wait?"

Enormous American guns, trailed behind lorries driven by pink-faced boys
swayed from side to side on the greasy road, and threatened to crush her
like an egg-shell.

Everywhere she saw a wild disregard for life, everywhere she winced
before the menace of speed, of weight, of thundering metal.

In the late afternoon, returning home in the half-light, she overtook a
convoy of lorries driven by Annamites.

Hooting with her horn she crept past three lorries and drew abreast of
the fourth; then, misjudging, she let the tip of her low mudguard touch
the front wheel of the foremost lorry. The touch was so slight that she
had passed on, but at a cry she drew up and looked back. The lorry which
she had touched was overhanging the edge of the road, and its radiator,
striking a tree, had dropped down into the valley below. Climbing from
her car she ran back and was instantly surrounded by a crowd of Annamites
who chirped and twittered at her, and wrung their little hands.