One moment the dew upon the grass was like raindrops, the next it shone like polished jewels.

The postillion shouted a welcome to the sun, and the lady proceeded to breakfast in her carriage.

Wogan had to snatch a meal as best he could while the horses were changed at the posting stage.

The lady would not wait, and Wogan for his part was used to a light fare.

He drove into Bologna that afternoon.
The lady put her head from the window and called out the name of a street.