They skimmed over the long level stretches; they climbed hills, they raced down into valleys.

Warham and the ragged, rawboned old proprietor kept up a kind of conversation--about crops and politics, about the ownership, value, and fertility of the farms they were passing.

Susan sat quiet, motionless most of the time.
The last daylight faded; the stars came out; the road wound in and out, up and down, amid cool dark silence and mysterious fascinating shadows.

The moon appeared above the tree tops straight ahead--a big moon, with a lower arc of the rim clipped off.

The turnpike ended; they were making equally rapid progress over the dirt road which was in perfect condition as there had been no rain for several days.