Glancing back,
they saw a small cloud of dust, with a dark centre of energy,
advancing on them at incredible speed, while from out the dust a faint
'Poop-poop!' wailed like an uneasy animal in pain. Hardly regarding
it, they turned to resume their conversation, when in an instant (as
it seemed) the peaceful scene was changed, and with a blast of wind
and a whirl of sound that made them jump for the nearest ditch, It was
on them! The 'Poop-poop' rang with a brazen shout in their ears, they
had a moment's glimpse of an interior of glittering plate-glass and
rich morocco, and the magnificent motor-car, immense,
breath-snatching, passionate, with its pilot tense and hugging his
wheel, possessed all earth and air for the fraction of a second, flung
an enveloping cloud of dust that blinded and enwrapped them utterly,
and then dwindled to a speck in the far distance, changed back into a
droning bee once more.
The old grey horse, dreaming, as he plodded along, of his quiet
paddock, in a new raw situation such as this simply abandoned himself
to his natural emotions.
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