The train slowed down. Lamps stood up. They were felled. Up they stood
again as the train slid into the station. The lights blazed. And the
eyes in the corner? They were shut. Perhaps the light was too strong.
And of course in the full blaze of the station lamps it was plain--she
was quite an ordinary, rather elderly,
Cheap Newport 100s, woman, travelling to London on
some ordinary piece of business--something connected with a cat, or a
horse, or a dog. She reached for her suit case, rose, and took the
pheasants from the rack. But did she, all the same, as she opened the
carriage door and stepped out,
Newport Cigarette, murmur "Chk.,
Cheap Newports, Chk." as she passed?
Newport Cigarettes Reviews-(82)
Linear Mode
