Explore "The Golden Web" by E. Phillips Oppenheim on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Southward, through the country lanes whose hedges were still wreathed with late honeysuckle, on to the great mainroad, Deane's car was driven through the night, -- always southward, till the lights of the great city flared before them up into the sky. Deane himself, for hour after hour, had sat back in his corner, buried in thought. His companion was even more invisible, but as the end of the journey drew near he roused himself with an effort, turned on the electric light which hung down from the roof of the car, lit a cigarette, and, bending forward, looked into the half-hidden face of the girl who was reclining by his side.
"My dear fiancee," he said, "we are nearing London. Won't you rouse yourself and give me your further orders?"