the landlady
Montāžas Teksta
- Billy Weaver had traveled down from London on the slow afternoon train, with a change at Reading on the way, and by the time he got to Bath, it was about nine o’clock in the evening, and the moon was coming up out of a clear starry sky over the houses opposite the station entrance. But the air was deadly cold and the wind was like a flat blade of ice on his cheeks.
- Excuse me, but is there a fairly cheap hotel not too far away from here?
- Try The Bell and Dragon. They might take you in. It’s about a quarter of a mile along on the other side.”
- Billy was in the act of stepping back and turning away from the window when all at once his eye was caught and held in the most peculiar manner by the small notice that was there. BED AND BREAKFAST, Each word was like a large black eye staring at him through the glass, holding him, compelling him, forcing him to stay where he was and not to walk away from that house.
- Bed And Breakfast
- He pressed the bell. It must have been at once because he hadn’t even had time to take his finger from the bell button—the door swung open and a woman was standing there. Normally you ring the bell and you have at least a half-minute’s wait before the door opens. But this dame was like a jack-in-the-box. He pressed the bell—and out she popped! It made him jump. She stepped aside, holding the door wide open, and Billy found himself automatically starting forward. The compulsion or, more accurately, the desire to follow after her into that house was extraordinarily strong.
- Please come in.
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