The bookish old man, it turned out, was called Christopher Lilly. The nieame was Maud. They lived west of London, out Maidenhead-way, near a village named Marlow, and in a house they called Briar. Gentlemans plan was to sehere alone, by train, in two days time. He himself, he said, must stay in London for another week at least, to do the old mans business over the bindings of his books.
I didnt care much for the detail of my travelling down there, and arriving at the house, all on my own. I had never been much further west before than the Cremardens, where I sometimes went with Mr Ibbss nephews, to watch the dang on a Saturday night. I saw the French girl cross the river on a wire from there, and almost drop—that was something. They say she wore stogs; her legs looked bare enough to me, though. But I recall standing on Battersea Bridge as she walked her rope, and looking out, past Hammersmith, to all the tryside beyond it, that was just trees
and hill……（内容加载失败！）
(ò﹏ò)
抱歉，章节内容不支持该浏览器显示～
【为了使用完整的阅读功能】
请考虑使用〔Chrome 谷歌浏览器〕、〔Safari 苹果浏览器〕或者〔Edge 微软浏览器〕等原生浏览器阅读！
谢谢!!!