4.50 from paddington pdf
She slept for thirty-five minutes and awoke refreshed.
The 4:50 was not much patronised, the first-class clientele preferring either the faster morning express, or the 6:40 with dining-car.
"The train standing at Platform 3 the voice told her, "is the 4:50 for Brackhampton, Milchester, Waverton, Carvil Junction, Roxeter and stations to Chadmouth.McGillicuddy was installed in solitary splendour.Agatha christie, miss marple and the Agatha Christie signature are registered trademarks of Agatha Christie Limited in the UK and/or elsewhere.Use of these materials are allowed under the fair use clause of the Copyright Law.McGillicuddy's hand, her head dropped sideways, three minutes later she was asleep.McGillicuddy handed the porter his tip which he received with disappointment, clearly considering it more applicable to third-class than to first-class travel.McGillicuddy found her ticket and presented."You didn't say so grumbled the porter.At that mixed in key 4 windows moment, a voice, raucous yet refined, burst into speech over her head.McGillicuddy and her parcels were buffeted to and fro, but she arrived eventually at the entrance.3 platform, and deposited one parcel at her feet whilst she searched her bag for the ticket that would enable her to pass the stern uniformed guardian.The Voice shut itself off with a click, and then reopened conversation by announcing the arrival at Platform 9 of the 4:33 from Birmingham and Wolverhampton.Copyrights and trademarks for the book, and other promotional materials are the property of their respective owners.Resettling her hat which had slipped askew, she sat up and looked out of the window at what she could see of the flying countryside.
McGillicuddy, who had said so, did not argue the point.
Passengers for Brackhampton and Milchester travel at the rear of the train.His eye swept her masculine-looking pepper-and-salt tweed coat disparagingly.McGillicuddy looked up at the rack where her various parcels reposed, with a pleased expression."Serving last tea now said an attendant, whisking open the corridor door.She was sadly out of breath.McGillicuddy padded up the platform and found her porter, looking bored and staring into space, outside the door of a third-class carriage.London had been dark and dreary, the country was no less so, though occasionally rendered cheerful with its constant clusters of lights as the train flashed through towns and stations.The man clipped it, murmured: "On the right-rear portion.".
McGillicuddy was short and stout, the porter was tall and free-striding.
"Here you are, lady." "I'm travelling first-class said Mrs.