Keith was rolling on his seat and making small sounds which showed he was completely oblivious of everything but the sleepy game he was playing. A moth battered on the windscreen and fell, and something zoomed in one window and out of the other. Ross was driving fairly fast, but presently he slowed a little.“Did you have fun picking fruit with the D.C.?” he asked mockingly.“Of course,” she returned. “You saw it yourself.”He nodded. “For a while you lopped about ten years off Martin. Never occurred to me the D.C. might be vulnerable.”“He’s not. He’s simply nice all through.”“Bless you,” he said with sarcasm. “Are you really innocent or is there a scheme budding in that flower-like head of yours? You wouldn’t be wondering whether Martin Craddock might have a good father for Keith, would you?”“I haven’t got round to it yet,” she replied, “but it’s a thought.”“He’s nearly twice your age and rather set in his ways. Of course, you’d feel safe with old Martin.
