It grew gradually louder. It grew
very loud. It seemed to be ripping the envelope of the air. It seemed
as if it would last for ever--till it finished with a gigantic and
intimidating _plop_ quite near the front of Lechford House. Queen
said:
"Shrapnel--and a big lump!"
G.J. could see the quick heave of her bosom imprisoned in the black.
She was breathing through her nostrils.
"Come downstairs into the house," he said sharply--more than sharply,
brutally. "Where in the name of God is the sense of stopping up here?
Are you both mad?"
Queen laughed lightly.
"Oh, G.J.! How funny you are! I'm really surprised you haven't left
London for good before now. By rights you ought to belong to the
Hook-it Brigade. Do you know what they do? They take a ticket to any
station north or west, and when they get out of the train they run to
the nearest house and interview the tenant. Has he any accommodation
to let? Will he take them in as boarders? Will he take them as paying
guests? Will he let the house furnished? Will he let it unfurnished?
Will he allow them to camp out in the stables? Will he sell the
blooming house? So there isn't a house to be had on the North Western
nearer than Leighton Buzzard.
Pages:
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270