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Oh, Mr Ross, is that you? Isn't this a delightful little house? More tea? Yes, please. Mr La France doesn't take sugar, and 'You don't know what I am now, said Archie, having fixed the goggles on his own fair head, to the delight of Dilly. 'Oh, I guess what you are! You're a motorist, aren't you, darling? That's it!
A moment later I swung into the great garage, where hundreds of cars were standing that garage with the female directress which every motorist knows so well. And I stopped the engines, and literally fell out, utterly done up and exhausted after that mad drive from the Thames to the Mediterranean. The circumstances seemed even more complicated and mysterious than I had imagined them to be.
The driver turned his wheel a point further towards escape, and instantly one of the men clapped a gun to the wheel and blew the tyre open. Some words were exchanged, and then a shout: "Drive it on the rim, drive it." The tone was very menacing, and the motorist turned his car slowly to the barricade and placed it in.
"Not a bit of it," said Forrest, jumping down and approaching the stranger. I followed his example, and the first thing I observed about the car was that all the lights were out, and I wondered that any motorist in his senses should have courted the accident which so nearly occurred. There was one occupant of the car, and he was sitting bolt upright with one hand on a lever beside him.
The other, a mere boy, remained and flecked dust with a napkin, wondering, no doubt, why the motorist sat hours at the table. At last, near noon, Rachel Craik, with a plaid shawl draped around her angular shoulders, and Winifred, in a new dress of French gray, came in. Winifred started and cast down her eyes on seeing who was there.
It is certainly one of the most beautiful bridges in Kent. Little known and seldom seen by the world, and unappreciated even by the antiquary or the motorist, these Medway bridges continue their placid existence and proclaim the enduring work of the English masons of nearly five centuries ago. Many of our bridges are of great antiquity.
Perhaps some of you have seen motor races, such as those held at Brooklands; if so, you must have noticed that the track is banked very steeply at the corners, and when the motorist is going round these corners at, say, 80 miles an hour, his motor makes a considerable angle with the level ground, and looks as if it must topple over.
Delagrange, however, saved the situation by making a circuit of the course at a height of thirty feet from the ground, which won him rounds of cheering and restored the crowd to good humour. Possibly the smash achieved by Rougier, the famous racing motorist, who crashed his Voisin biplane after Delagrange had made his circuit, completed the enjoyment of the spectators.
Though we cannot now see how it would be possible, the day may come when every automobile and aeroplane will be equipped with its wireless telephone, and the motorist and aviator, wherever they go, may talk with anyone anywhere. The transmission of power by wireless is confidently predicted. Pictures have been transmitted by telegraph. It may be possible to transmit them by wireless.
Occasionally an unusually comfortable and well-ordered hotel will tempt the motorist to tarry a day or two and possibly to make excursions in the vicinity. Such hotels we found at Chester and York, for instance. The country hotel-keeper in Britain is waking up to the importance of motor travel.
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