"Allen, Grant - Miss Cayley's Adventures 01 - The Adventure of the Cantankerous Old Lady" - читать интересную книгу автора (Allen Grant)

proceeded to take charge of her luggage and tickets.

Oh my, how fussy she was! 'You will drop that basket! I
hope you have got through tickets, via Malines, not by
Brussels--I won't go by Brussels. You have to change there.
Now, mind you notice how much the luggage weighs in English
pounds, and make the man at the office give you a note of it
to check those horrid Belgian porters. They'll charge you
for double the weight, unless you reduce it at once to
kilogrammes. I know their ways. Foreigners have no
consciences. They just go to the priest and confess, you
know, and wipe it all out, and start fresh again on a career
of crime next morning. I'm sure I don't know why I ever go
abroad. The only country in the world fit to live in is
England. No mosquitoes, no passports, no--goodness
gracious, child, don't let that odious man bang about my
hat-box! Have you no immortal soul, porter, that you crush
other people's property as if it was blackbeetles? No, will
not let you take this, Lois; this is my jewel-box--it
contains all that remains of the Fawley family jewels. I
positively decline to appear at Schlangenbad without a
diamond to my back. This never leaves my hands. It's hard
enough nowadays to keep body and skirt together. Have you
secured that coupe at Ostend?'

We got into our first-class carriage. It was clean and
comfortable; but the Cantankerous Old Lady made the porter
mop the floor, and fidgeted and worried till we slid out of
the station. Fortunately, the only other occupant of the
compartment was a most urbane and obliging Continental
gentleman--I say Continental, because I couldn't quite make
out whether he was French, German, or Austrian--who was
anxious in every way to meet Lady Georgina's wishes. Did
madame desire to have the window open? Oh, certainly, with
pleasure; the day was so sultry. Closed a little more?
Parfaitement, there was a current of air, il faut
l'admettre. Madame would prefer the corner? No? then
perhaps she would like this valise for a footstool?
Permettez--just thus. A cold draught runs so often along
the floor in railway carriages. This is Kent that we
traverse; ah, the garden of England! As a diplomat, he knew
every nook of Europe, and he echoed the mot he had
accidentally heard drop from madame's lips on the platform:
no country in the world so delightful as England!

'Monsieur is attached to the Embassy in London?' Lady
Georgina inquired, growing affable.

He twirled his grey moustache: a waxed moustache of some
distinction. 'No, madame; I have quitted the diplomatic