But the shining structure had glided off toward the depot, its driver's head rigid, his glance strained upon the road's centre.

As it moved away Wilbur Cowan leaped to the rear steps and was carried with it.

He had almost asked Starling Tucker for the privilege of a seat beside him, but the occasion was really too great.
Five blocks down Geneseo Street Starling had turned out to permit the passing of Trimble Cushman's loaded dray--and he had inexplicably, terribly, kept on turning out when there was no longer need for it.
Frozen with horror, helpless in the fell clutch of circumstance, he sat inert and beheld himself guide the new bus over the sidewalk and through the neat white picket fence of the Dodwell place.

It demolished one entire panel of this, made deep progress over a stretch of soft lawn, and came at last--after threatening a lawless invasion of the sanctity of domicile--to a grinding stop in a circular bed of pansies that would never be the same again.

There was commotion within the bus.