"Allen, Grant - Miss Cayley's Adventures 04 - The Adenture of the Amateur Commission Agent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Allen Grant)

tearless farewell to the Blighted Fraus. When I
told those eight phlegmatic souls I was going, they
all said 'So!' much as they had said 'So!' to every
previous remark I had been moved to make to them.
So' is capital garnishing: but viewed as a staple
of conversation, I find it a trifle vapid, not to
say monotonous.

I set out on my wanderings, therefore, to go
round the world on my own account and my own
Manitou, which last I grew to love in time with a
love passing the love of Mr. Cyrus Hitchcock. I
carried the strict necessary before me in a small
waterproof bicycling valise; but I sent on the
portmanteau containing my whole estate, real or
personal, to some point in advance which I hoped to
reach from time to time in a day or two. My first
day's journey was along a pleasant road from
Frankfort to Heidelberg, some fifty-four miles in
all, skirting the mountains the greater part of the
way; the Manitou took the ups and downs so easily
that I diverged at intervals, to choose side-paths
over the wooded hills. I arrived at Heidelberg as
fresh as a daisy, my mount not having turned a hair
meanwhile--a favourite expression of cyclists which
carries all the more conviction to an impartial
mind because of the machine being obviously
hairless. Thence I journeyed on by easy stages to
Karlsruhe, Baden, Appenweier, and Offenburg; where
I set my front wheel resolutely for the Black
Forest. It is the prettiest and most picturesque
route to Switzerland; and, being also the hilliest,
it would afford me, I thought, the best opportunity
for showing off the Manitou's paces, and trying my
prentice hand as an amateur cycle-agent. From the
quaint little Black Eagle at Offenburg, however,
before I dashed into the Forest, I sent off a
letter to Elsie Petheridge, setting forth my lovely
scheme for her summer holidays. She was delicate,
poor child, and the London winters sorely tried
her; I was now a millionaire, with the better part
of fifty pounds in pocket, so I felt I could afford
to be royal in my hospitality. As I was leaving
Frankfort, I had called at a tourist agency and
bought a second-class circular ticket from London
to Lucerne and back--I made it second-class because
I am opposed on principle to excessive luxury, and
also because it was three guineas cheaper. Even
fifty pounds will not last for ever, though I could
scarce believe it. (You see, I am not wholly free,