Laurels Are Poison

Начало книги

Deborah, who had that true sense of humour — if connoisseurs of it are to be believed — the ability to laugh at herself, felt that she must look rather like Will Hay in The Ghost of St Michael’s. Up the hill and over the moor she was toiling, suitcase in hand, and although she had been informed at the station that the distance to College was approximately two miles, she already felt as though she had walked at least ten.

The suitcase, which had seemed light enough at starting, now weighed, she thought, not less than three-quarters of a hundredweight, and she was further handicapped against rough country walking by her handbag and a large bunch of chrysanthemums which her landlady had thrust upon her at parting and which she had not liked to leave in the train. In addition to these other discomforts she was wearing a tiresome hat.

Fortunately the College buildings, once she was clear of the town, formed the dominating feature of an almost treeless landscape, and made at once a landmark there was no escaping and a goal towards which, without fear of error, her steps could be directed.

Читать дальше →