eight o’clock
Still , this was not destined to be precisely a pleasure trip , and prudence bade me give the helm to Dick . He is a good enough driver ; and the car was his car now ; I was but an insignificant passenger , with a case of visiting cards in his pocket , newly engraved with the name of Mr. George Smith . I sat on the front seat beside Dick , however , silently criticising his every move ; Ropes was in the tonneau ; such luggage as we had , on top . It was scarcely eight o'clock , and there was so little traffic in the town that we did not need to trouble about a legal limit . We slipped swiftly along the rough white road to the railway station , past large villas and green lawns , and took the sharp turn to the right that leads out from the pleasant land of France straight to romantic Spain , the country of my dreams . We sped past houses that looked from their deep sheltering woods upon a silver lake , and away in the distance we caught glimpses of the sea . Before us were graceful , piled mountains , the crenelated mass of Les Trois Couronnes glittering with wintry diamonds .