Читать книгу The Perfect World. A romance of strange people and strange places онлайн

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Alan shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll see to the things,” said he. “You go along to Mr. Winthrop, and tell him of the change in our plans.”

“Right, old boy,” and Desmond went towards Mr. Winthrop’s rooms, whistling and doing his best to ignore the hostile looks that were directed at him.

Alan went into the little room that had become so dear to them both. The cottage was deserted, Mrs. Slater was absent, and as he made his way up to the little bedroom, he sighed as he thought of leaving the dear little place.

In a very short space of time the drawers were emptied and the trunks packed; everything was done except the putting together of the hundred and one odds and ends that invariably remain about.

“That’s good!” said he to himself, as he rose from his knees, having finished strapping up the trunks, and he surveyed his handiwork with pride, as he realized the short time it had taken him to complete it all.

“Alan!”—He turned round suddenly—it was Desmond’s voice.

“Coming, old chap,” but Desmond was in the room, with a white, set face, trembling limbs and a look of horror in his eyes.