I feel like singing."
CHAPTER X
HE GOES A-GIPSYING
They rode out of London in a third-class compartment, opposite
a curate and two stodgy people who were just people and defied
you (Istra cheerfully explained to Mr. Wrenn) to make anything
of them but just people.
"Wouldn't they stare if they knew what idiocy we're up to!"
she suggested.
Mr. Wrenn bobbed his head in entire agreement. He was trying,
without any slightest success, to make himself believe that Mr.
William Wrenn, Our Mr. Wrenn, late of the Souvenir Company, was
starting out for a country tramp at midnight with an artist girl.
The night foreman of the station, a person of bedizenment and
pride, stared at them as they alighted at Chelmsford and glanced
around like strangers. Mr. Wrenn stared back defiantly and
marched with Istra from the station, through the sleeping town,
past its ragged edges, into the country.
They tramped on, a bit wearily. Mr. Wrenn was beginning to
wonder if they'd better go back to Chelmsford.
Pages:
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213