It fell and grew smaller.

Scarcely had they moved, as it seemed, before it was again only a flat blue thing that dwindled in the sky.

This was the aeroplane that went to and fro between London and Paris.

In fair weather and in peaceful times it came and went four times a day.
They beat across the Channel, slowly as it seemed now to Graham's enlarged ideas, and Beachy Head rose greyly to the left of them.
"Land," called the aeronaut, his voice small against the whistling of the air over the wind-screen.
"Not yet," bawled Graham, laughing.

"Not land yet.