I uttered every idea that came into my mind concerning the ruin, and squeezed my brain for more, till my head felt like a drained orange; not that I enjoyed hearing myself talk, or thought that Jack and Molly would do so, but because they could not well interrupt the flow of my eloquence to remind me of the reason for our stop.

At last, however, silence fell upon us.  It was a shock to me when Molly broke it.  “Oh, Lord Lane, have you forgotten that this is where you’re to begin driving?  The road is nice and broad here.”

I put on a brave air, as does one at the dentist’s.  “I hope that you’re not afraid I shall run you into a ditch?” I asked, laughing.  “I don’t believe, after all, it can be any worse than steering a toboggan down a good run, or driving a four-in-hand with one’s eyes shut, as I did once for a wager on a road I knew as I knew my own hat.”

“Perhaps it isn’t exactly worse,” said Molly, “still—­I think you’ll find it different.”

I did.

Meanwhile, however, Winston was cheering me on.  “You’ll find steering the simplest thing in the world, really,” he assured me.  “There’s no car so sensitive as this.  The faster you go, the easier it is——­”

“But, perhaps he’d better not try to prove that, just at first!” cried Molly, with an affected little gasp.

“No, no; certainly he won’t, my child.  He won’t go beyond a walk until he’s sure of himself and the car.  You needn’t be frightened.  I know my man, or I shouldn’t trust him with you and your Mercedes.  Now, then, Monty, are you ready?”

I had never before sufficiently realised the solemnity of that word “now.”  It sounded in my ears like a knell, but I swallowed hard, and echoed it.  To do myself justice, though, I don’t think I was afraid.  I was only in a funk that I should do something stupid, and be disgraced forever in the eyes of Molly Winston.  However, I reflected, it couldn’t be so very bad.  Molly herself, and even Jack, had to learn.  Winston had explained to me several times the purpose of all the different levers, and, at least, I shouldn’t touch the brake handle when I wanted to change the speed.

“No need to grip the wheel so tightly,” said Jack, and I became aware that I had been clinging to it as if it were a forlorn hope.  “A light touch is best, you know; it’s rather like steering a boat.  A very slight movement does it, and in half an hour it has got to be automatic.  Of course, always start on the lowest, that is, the first speed, and with the throttle nearly shut.”

Mine was in much the same condition, but I managed to mutter something as I moved the lever, and touched the clutch-pedal with a caress timid as a falling snowflake.  Almost apologetically, I slid the lever into position, and let in the clutch.  Somehow, I had not expected it to answer so soon; but, as if it disliked being patted by a stranger, the dragon took the bit between its teeth and bolted.  I hung on and did things more by instinct than by skill, for the beast was hideously lithe and strong, a thousand times stronger and wilder than I had dreamed.