The smart English victoria from the château, drawn by Wyckholme's thoroughbreds, was coming on in advance of the foot brigade.

We had a little victoria and rushed along, not minding who we ran into, as is always the way with French cabs.

She would feel it to be as unnatural in you to care to drive with her in her very comfortable victoria as she would feel it to be unnatural in herself to wish to go in your lightning speed motor.

As we passed a neat victoria, glistening with varnish, and drawn by a pair of good-looking, high-stepping ponies, containing a general in full uniform and a pretty, smartly dressed lady, I cast a glance behind me.