You can't knock into the head of an artilleryman who has been trained to hang on to a limber by the friction of his trousers, that there can be any danger in the luxurious seat of a motor-car.
There is a good straight half mile of the Godbury Road which is known in the locality as "The Gut." It is sunken and very narrow, being flanked on one side by the railway embankment, and on the other by the grounds of Godbury Chase.

A most desolate bit of road, half overhung by trees and oozing with all the moisture of the country-side.

On this day it was the wettest, slimiest bit of road in England.

We had almost reached the end of it, when it entered the head of a stray puppy dog to pause in the act of crossing and sit down in the middle and hunt for fleas.

To spare the abominable mongrel, Marigold made a sudden swerve.
Of course the car skidded.