eight minutes to eleven
Fresh from the coach-builder 's , her touring body was painted silver-grey , while her bonnet was of polished aluminium . Fitted with every conceivable accessory , she was very good-looking , charming alike to ride or drive , and she went like the wind . In a word , she did as handsome as she was . It was eight minutes to eleven as we slid past the lodge and on to the Bilberry road . Before we had covered two furlongs , we swung round a corner to see a smart two-seater at rest by the dusty hedgerow , and a slight dark girl in fresh blue and white standing with one foot on the step , wiping her dainty fingers on a handful of cotton-waste . `` Agatha ! '' cried Daphne and Jill .