about one o'clock
Cogolin was fine , and Grimaud was even finer . Up a steep ascent , through shadowy forests we had passed , now and then coming suddenly upon a little red-roofed village nestling among the trees as a strawberry among its leaves , when abruptly we flashed out where spaces of sky and silver sea opened . Between hills that seemed to sweep a curtsey to us , we flew down an apple-paring road toward Hyères . The Turnours had lunched , if not wisely , probably too well , at Valescure about one o'clock , and it was n't yet four ; but the air at the beautiful Costebelle hotels is said to be perpetually glittering with Royalties and other bright beings of the great world , so her ladyship would n't have been persuaded to miss the place . Not that anyone tried to persuade her , for the two powers behind the throne -LRB- and in front of the car -RRB- wanted to go -- not to see the Royalties , but the beauties of Costebelle itself . We slipped gently through the town of Hyères , whose avenues of giant palms looked like great sea anemones turned into trees , and then spurted up a hill into a vast and fragrant grove that smelled of a thousand flowers . In the grove stood three hotels , with wide views over jade-green lagoons to an indigo sea ; and at the most charming of the trio we stopped .