Edith Wharton owned a motor car, and Henry James liked to go on long rides with her. On one occasion, she remembered him asking directions from a passer-by in the town of Windsor. This is Whartons account:
While I was hesitating and peering out into the darkness James spied an ancient doddering man who had stopped in the rain to gaze at us. "Wait a moment, my dear Ill ask him where we are"; and leaning out he signalled to the spectator.
"My good man, if youll be good enough to come here, please; a little nearer so," and as the old man came up: "My friend, to put it to you in two words, this lady and I have just arrived here from Slough; that is to say, to be more strictly accurate, we have recently passed through Slough on our way here, having actually motored to Windsor from Rye, which was our point of departure; and the darkness having overtaken us, we should be much obliged if you would tell us where we now are in relation, say, to the High Street, which, as you of course know, leads to the Castle, after leaving on the left hand the turn down to the railway station."
I was not surprised to have this extraordinary appeal met by silence, and a dazed expression on the old wrinkled face at the window; nor to have James go on: "In short" (his invariable prelude to a fresh series of explanatory ramifications), "in short, my good man, what I want to put to you in a word is this: supposing we have already (as I have reason to think we have) driven past the turn down to the railway station (which in that case, by the way, would probably not have been on our left hand, but on our right) where are we now in relation to . . ."
"Oh, please," I interrupted, feeling myself utterly unable to sit through another parenthesis, "do ask him where the Kings Road is."
"Ah ? The Kings Road? Just so! Quite right! Can you, as a matter of fact, my good man, tell us where, in relation to our present position, the Kings Road exactly is?"
"Yere in it," said the aged face at the window.