By Sheer Pluck, a Tale of the Ashanti War by G. A. (George Alfred) Henty
page 60 of 326 (18%)
page 60 of 326 (18%)
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Two days after the sale Frank started for London. On getting out of
the train he felt strange and lonely amid the bustle and confusion which was going on on the platform. The doctor had advised him to ask one of the porters, or a policeman, if he could recommend him to a quiet and respectable lodging, as expenses at an hotel would soon make a deep hole in his money. He, therefore, as soon as the crowd cleared away, addressed himself to one of the porters. "What sort of lodgings do you want, sir?" the man said, looking at him rather suspiciously, with, as Frank saw, a strong idea in his mind that he was a runaway schoolboy. "I only want one room," he said, "and I don't care how small it is, so that it is clean and quiet. I shall be out all day, and should not give much trouble." The porter went away and spoke to some of his mates, and presently returned with one of them. "You're wanting a room I hear, sir," the man said. "I have a little house down the Old Kent Road, and my missus lets a room or two. It's quiet and clean, I'll warrant you. We have one room vacant at present." "I'm sure that would suit me very well," Frank said. "How much do you charge a week?" "Three and sixpence, sir, if you don't want any cooking done." Frank took the address, and leaving his portmanteau in charge of |
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