I wish your father could see it." Clover hardly understood what he said she was so fascinated and absorbed.
She looked up at the bright pinnacles, down at the flowers and the sheen of the river-pools and the mad rush of its cascades, and felt as though she were in a dream.

Through the dream she caught half-comprehended fragments of conversation from the seat behind.

Mrs.Watson was giving her impressions of the scenery.
"It's pretty, I suppose," she remarked; "but it's so very queer, and I'm not used to queer things.

And this road is frightfully narrow.

If a load of hay or a big Concord coach should come along, I can't think what we should do.