She was very comfortable as she was, and did not propose to move.

Constance climbed up on one side of her and Tony on the other.
'We are well chaperoned,' he grumbled, as they jolted out of the piazza.
'I always did think that the Church interfered too much with the rights of individuals.' Constance, in a spirit of friendly expansiveness, proceeded to pick up an acquaintance with the nuns, and the four black heads were presently bobbing in unison, while Tony, in gloomy isolation at his end of the seat, folded his arms and stared at the road.

The driver had passed through many villages that day and had drunk many glasses of famous wine; he cracked his whip and sang as he drove.

They rattled in and out of stone-paved villages, along open stretches of moonlit road, past villas and olive groves.

Children screamed after them, dogs barked, Constance and her four nuns were very vivacious, and Tony's gloom deepened with every mile.
They had covered three-quarters of the distance when the diligence was brought to a halt before a high stone wall and a solid barred gate.