Читать книгу Sydney Lisle, the Heiress of St. Quentin онлайн

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Dr. Chichester had to blow his nose more than once in the course of that five minutes. “There, there, my dear!” he kept on saying, “things will look brighter presently.... Be a good girl ... and write to us ... you’ll like getting our letters, won’t you?... And I expect this Lady Frederica will spoil you famously, eh, my dear?... There, there! don’t cry; it won’t be as bad as you think, my little girl!”

And then Mr. Fenton gave a nervous little cough behind him, and said he was afraid the train was just due to start, and Dr. Chichester apologised for blocking up the doorway, and kissed Sydney, and said to Mr. Fenton, in a rather husky voice, “Be good to my little girl, sir.”

And Mr. Fenton looked a little frightened, and said, “Yes, yes, you may rely upon me; I will make a point of it.” And then a guard yelled, “Stand clear, sir!” and the train was moving.

And Sydney had stood up and waved her handkerchief till the long platform, with the tall, slightly stooping figure, was quite out of sight—the last of home!