The engine was purring softly as it warmed up.
The car was running smoothly.

The sun of early morning was shining on them through bracing, salt, cool air, and even in the valley the larks were busy, and the mockingbirds, and from every wayside bush the rosy finches were singing.

All the world was coming to the exquisite bloom of a half-tropical country.

Up from earth swept the heavy odors of blooming citrus orchards, millions of roses, and the overpowering sweetness of gardens and cultivated flowers; while down from the mountains rolled the delicate breath of the misty blue lilac, the pungent odor of California sage, and the spicy sweet of the lemonade bush.

They were two young things, free for the day, flying down a perfect road, adventuring with Providence.