Explore "Stolen Idols" by E. Phillips Oppenheim on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Mr. Johnson found plenty of time during the journey to Norwich to exchange remarks with and take notice of his companion. The sulkiness of her expression lightened considerably with the pleasure of the rapid motion, the sense of freedom springing from this unexpected holiday. The road wound its way between hedges from which the late honeysuckle still drooped, through a tract of pleasant and varied country; corn fields where harvesting machines with their musical mechanism were at work, rich meadows where the cows stood knee-deep in flower-starred herbage, across a great common where clumps of heather and gorse stretched away to the borders of a thick, encircling wood. The Ballaston pheasants strutted about on every side. From a slight rise in the road a mile or so beyond the village they caught a glimpse of the back of the Hall.
"I lunched there to-day," Mr. Johnson confided.