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Updated: May 11, 2025
When the windshield was closed it became so filmed with rain that Claire fancied she was piloting a drowned car in dim spaces under the sea. When it was open, drops jabbed into her eyes and chilled her cheeks. She was excited and thoroughly miserable. She realized that these Minnesota country roads had no respect for her polite experience on Long Island parkways.
Underneath the dancer's extravagant theatricalism she appeared natural and unaffected. Adoree changed the current of the conversation by saying: "I hope those bloodhounds get to fighting." "Don't you like them?" "Hate 'em! I'd use 'em to scrub the windshield if I had my way." "Why aren't they yours?" "Oh, I suppose so; as much as that rubber-tired igloo is mine.
The rain had stopped, and, in order to be ready to fire in any direction at any time, he had removed the top of the jeep. Now he had to crouch below the windshield to avoid overhanging branches. Once three deer a buck and two does stopped in front of him and stared for a moment, then bounded away with a flutter of white tails.
I'm used to the gumbo regular mud-hen. Just add my power to yours. Have you a tow-rope?" "No. I never thought of bringing one." "I'll get mine." She walked with him back toward his bug. It lacked not only top and side-curtains, but even windshield and running-board. It was a toy a card-board box on toothpick axles. Strapped to the bulging back was a wicker suitcase partly covered by tarpaulin.
For a moment she closed her eyes, but opened them again to behold the transformed image of herself reflected in the windshield to confirm the illusion if indeed it were one! The tweed coat seemed startlingly white in the sunlight, and the woman she saw, yet recognized as herself, was one of the fortunately placed of the earth with power and beauty at her command!
"Drive around it, then," growled Foster, lifting his chin to stare ahead through the fogged windshield. "We've got hot coffee here, and there's plenty to eat. Enough for two meals. How far have we come since we started?" "Far enough to be called crazy if we go much farther without a square meal," Bud snapped.
But shiver my windshield if he wasn't a professor in a college! On the morning when first he dared to drive me to his work, the college must have got wind of our coming, for the students turned out in a body to cheer him as he steered in at the campus gate, and the faculty gathered on the steps to shake his hand.
The plate glass windows had reached almost to the ground, so that the automobile with its great momentum had easily surmounted the sills and reached nearly the middle of the store. One wheel had been torn off, the windshield was shattered into fragments, and the front of the machine had been crushed in. In the driver's seat, still with her hand on the wheel, was the figure of a girl.
Absorbed, he threw the switch. And instantly there was a racking, deafening explosion. The pistol on the car seat blew itself to bits, smashing the windshield and ripping the cushion open. The three cartridges in its cylinder had exploded simultaneously. Lockley seized a pitchfork. He stood savagely, ready for anything. Powder smoke drifted through the barn. Nothing else happened.
Luck gave the wheel a twist, cut a fine curve around the windmill and stopped before the house with as near a flourish as a seven-passenger automobile loaded from tail-lamp to windshield can possibly approach. "There. That's the way I've been used to seeing cars behave," Luck observed pointedly to the deposed chauffeur as he slammed the door open and climbed out.
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