The driver put the car in gear, and we rolled slowly over the damp gravel.

Brandon took two quick steps across the lawn, his right hand still clutching the yellow tape measure.

He stopped at the edge of the driveway when he saw that the guest house porch was entirely empty.

He rubbed the back of his neck as the taxi picked up speed along the tree-lined drive.

I turned my head and looked out the back window as we passed between the tall stone pillars.

The light in the main kitchen window was still on, bright and yellow against the darkening sky.