17The fat woman beside Iona rambled on with the apparently endless story of her illnesses.
“’Twas real queer I was taken that Wednesday – the very morning when m’ daughter was a-coming to stay – and he says to me, he says, ‘Mrs. Muggins, you’ve been overdoing it again’, and I says to him, ‘Doctor, I swear to you I have sat here quiet as a mouse and never a thing have I done contrary to your suggestions’. Then he says to me – ”
But Iona was not listening.
Dimly through the windows misty with the fug inside the coach, she could see houses, churches and shops. It was London at last. It seemed to her that she had been travelling for years rather than weeks, and although she had not yet reached the end of her journey, it was something to know that the first part had been completed.
Looking
