Istanbul Express
“Despite the wear and tear of war, the Orient Express remained a luxurious way to grow bored. The lounge and dining compartments were resplendent with leather, brass, and oil-stained wood. Jake and Sally’s compartment offered fold-up beds, an accordion-style writing desk, high-back leather seats, and embroidered footrests. There were bells to call the waiter, wine steward, and porter. The nightstand was a model of rolling ingenuity, with the little crystal water goblet nestled in a suede-lined b...rass well, the pen with its capped inkwell and writing pad, and the locket-sized brass chest for chocolates—heaven forbid that they should wake up in the middle of the night faint with hunger. The daintily appointed bathroom had brought a squeal of delight from Sally. It reminded Jake of one of those expensive dollhouses, perfect to look at, and impossibly uncomfortable for anyone over nine inches tall.
Sally baffled him utterly. Since they had boarded the train in Paris, his normally sensible wife had stayed happily entertained on nothing.MoreLess
Sally baffled him utterly. Since they had boarded the train in Paris, his normally sensible wife had stayed happily entertained on nothing.MoreLess
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