beautifully untrodden. The garage gates looked strange, with a thick
white banner blown down each side of the pillars. She looked inside the
garage shed. Yes, all the cars had gone--hers stood alone, the suitcases
inside, tyres pumped stiff and solid, the hood well buckled back.

"Mademoiselle hasn't gone with the convoy?" said the _marechal des
logis_, aghast.

"Oh, I'm separate," she laughed.

"But the convoy is gone."

"I know it. But I'm not with them. It's an order. I'm going alone."

"_Bien_. But do you know the route?"

"I'm not going by it."

He laughed, suddenly giving up all attempt at responsibility, and bent
to catch her starting handle.

"Oh, don't worry."

"Yes, it's your last day, I may as well help you to go away."

The engine started easily and she drove out of the garage into the yard,
the wheels flying helplessly in the snow, and flinging up dry puffs like
flour. "Haven't you chains?" said the _marechal des logis_. But she
smiled and nodded and could not wait. "Good-bye--good-bye to all the
garage," she nodded and waved. The sun broke out from behind a cloud,