adam meo syafeeq
Billy Weaver had traveled down from London on the slow afternoon train, with a change at Swindon 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.
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
There were no shops on this wide street 40 that he was walking along, only a line of tall houses on each side, all them identical. They had porches and pillars and four or five steps going up to their front doors, and it was obvious that once upon a time they had been very swanky residences.
Suddenly, in a downstairs window that was brilliantly illuminated by a street-lamp not six yards away, Billy caught sight of a printed notice propped up against the wooden gate. It says BED AND BREAKFAST.
BED & BREAKFAST
Billy decided that he would walk on and take a look at The Bell and Dragon before making up his mind. He turned to go. And now a queer thing happened to him. He 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, like he was forced to stay here.
Yes, I know
I saw the notice at the gate
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