It was immovable.
He tried the other, but it was as fast as the first one.
He thumped on the front of the carriage, to attract the attention of the driver; but a crack of the whip was his only answer.
He shouted, commanding the man to stop, but the horses only went on the faster.
Driven to desperation, Geoffrey drew back, and, with one powerful blow from his foot, shivered one of the windows to atoms.
At the sound of the breaking glass, the coachman slackened the speed of his steeds.
“Driver, where are you taking me?” Geoffrey shouted, thrusting his head from the window. “I want to go to Plymouth Church.”
“Oh! Plymouth?” replied the man, in a tone of innocent astonishment, as if he had been bound for some other church, and was surprised to learn that he had made a mistake.
Geoffrey was unsuspicious enough to believe this, yet he was very much annoyed.
He desired to see the clergyman before the ceremony, and he knew it was already past the hour set for his marriage.