Hephzy leaned back against the cushions with a sigh of supreme content.
“And now,” said I, “for London. London! think of it, Hephzy!”
Hephzy shook her head.
“I'm thinkin' of it,” she said. “London—the biggest city in the world! Who knows, Hosy? France is such a little ways off; probably Little Frank has been to London a hundred times. He may even be there now. Who knows? I shouldn't be surprised if we met him right in London. I sha'n't be surprised at anything anymore. I'm in England and on my way to London; that's surprise enough. NOTHIN' could be more wonderful than that.”
CHAPTER VI
In Which We Are Received at Bancroft's Hotel and I Receive a Letter
It was late when we reached London, nearly eleven o'clock. The long train journey was a delight. During the few hours of daylight and dusk we peered through the car windows at the scenery flying past; at the villages, the green fields, the hedges, the neat, trim farms.
“Everything looks as if it has been swept and dusted,” declared Hephzy. “There aren't any waste places at all. What do they do with their spare land?”
“They haven't any,” I answered. “Land is too valuable to waste. There's another thatched roof. It looks like those in the pictures, doesn't it.”