Cold, Lone And Still

Authors: Gladys Mitchell

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“The run from there to Euston passed without incident and, except that I was aware that she was keeping an eye on me, I might have thought that Hera had forgotten all about what had happened. The only spoken reference she made to our excursion in the mist was in the form of a quotation from a nostalgic poem by W. J. Turner. We were reminiscing about our walk along The Way, but steering well clear of our visit to the ruins, when she said, looking at me in a commiserating sort of way which was rat...her galling: ‘ “I dimly heard the master’s voice And boys far-off at play, Chimborazo, Cotopaxi Had stolen me away.” ’ ‘I am not a thirteen-year-old schoolboy, and what I saw and touched had nothing to do with the mountains of Ecuador,’ I said, ‘still less with the Grampians of Scotland.’ ‘Knows his geography, too!’ she said, with the simulated admiration she might have extended to a bright child of five. I grinned, determined not to allow her to see that she had irritated me.MoreLess Read More Read Less