【Full Steam Ahead】S0……
【完结小说TOP榜：林水阁】(高智商烧脑小说：梦叶阁)The return train was delayed.
They had two eg seats booked in a first-class carriage for the journey back.
Charles leaned wearily against the window, saying nothing. He had ged into his spare clothes, but the briny sll of wall seed to g to hi
Cyril sat opposite, also silent. He opened his notebook and began tahe day''''s events and the day''''s to-do list, occasionally looking up at Charles, who sat with his eyes closed, seengly resting.
The train sped eastward. The silhouette of St Michael''''s Mount receded iwilight, and the view outside the window gradually shifted fred coastlio rolling hills and dusky river valleys. The last rays of su were pletely swallowed by heavy clouds, leaving only the scattered lights of distant villages.
As the train crossed the Royal Albert Bridge over the River Tar into Devon, its speed slowly decreased. A blue sign with white lettering—PLYMOUTH—flashed past the window.
This was Devon''''s largest city and a jor hub on the Great Western lihe train would ke a short stop here. The events in wall would likely have already beeed in the Plyuth Evening Herald.
With a series of slight jolts and the screeetal oal, the train ca to a halt.
Charles appeared to be asleep, his head resting against the window, his breathing even. Cyril rose noiselessly and de his way through the swayiibule to the carriage door.
The platforwas brightly lit, with a few British Rail staff pushing luggage trolleys.
He checked his watd walked briskly towards the W. H. Sth at the end of the platfor
"Good evening, could I have... two copies of the Evening Herald, please."
"That''''ll be twenty-four pence, sir." The newsagent pulled ters froa stad haheover.
Cyril fuled in his pocket before produg a one-pound note. "Sorry, I don''''t have any ge."
"No tter." The newsagent took the note, opened his cash box, and began ting out s one by one. "...fifty peen pence..."
A sharp whistle blew.
Cyril looked bad saw the train guard raising his green flag.
"Keep the ge!" he alst shouted, grabbing the neers and turning to run.
"Cheers, sir!" the newsagent called after hiwith a wave.
The soles of his leather shoes tapped a frantic rhython the crete platfor Cyril could hear the heavy slaof carriage doors behind hi eae closer than the last.
As he reached his carriage door, an attendant was already reag for the heavy handle.
"Please, wait!" Cyril yelled.
The attendant saw hi breathless, and frowned, but pulled his hand back, holding the space for hi "Quickly now, sir!"
"Sorry, sir." Cyril grabbed the handrail and stepped up.
The train began to slide forward beh his feet. The attendant slaed the door shut behind hiwith a loud thud, cutting off the platfor''s noise.
Leaning against the carriage wall, Cyril caught his breath. The neers in his ar were slightly cruled. He pulled o and ope...
When Cyril returo their seats, he found that Charles had opened his eyes at so point.
"My apologies, I thought you were asleep, Minister." He placed the neer on the sll table and straightened his tie, trying to sk his ret dishevelnt.
"How is it?" Charles asked, his voice a little hoarse.
"Yes, Minister," Cyril said, as Charles unfolded the paper. "The tone of the local evening paper is lder than anticipated. They gave detailed ce to your senar."
The headline of the Plyuth Evening Herald, in large, bold type, read:
Festival Falters: Minister Gets Seaweed Salute
Below was a blad-white photograph taken frothe side of the stage. In it, Charles''''s back looked sowhat isolated, while the expressions of the fishern in the crowd were difficult to dis.
Charles quickly sed the article, finding the tone far re balahan he had expected; it eveailed the proses he had de at the se
They had two eg seats booked in a first-class carriage for the journey back.
Charles leaned wearily against the window, saying nothing. He had ged into his spare clothes, but the briny sll of wall seed to g to hi
Cyril sat opposite, also silent. He opened his notebook and began tahe day''''s events and the day''''s to-do list, occasionally looking up at Charles, who sat with his eyes closed, seengly resting.
The train sped eastward. The silhouette of St Michael''''s Mount receded iwilight, and the view outside the window gradually shifted fred coastlio rolling hills and dusky river valleys. The last rays of su were pletely swallowed by heavy clouds, leaving only the scattered lights of distant villages.
As the train crossed the Royal Albert Bridge over the River Tar into Devon, its speed slowly decreased. A blue sign with white lettering—PLYMOUTH—flashed past the window.
This was Devon''''s largest city and a jor hub on the Great Western lihe train would ke a short stop here. The events in wall would likely have already beeed in the Plyuth Evening Herald.
With a series of slight jolts and the screeetal oal, the train ca to a halt.
Charles appeared to be asleep, his head resting against the window, his breathing even. Cyril rose noiselessly and de his way through the swayiibule to the carriage door.
The platforwas brightly lit, with a few British Rail staff pushing luggage trolleys.
He checked his watd walked briskly towards the W. H. Sth at the end of the platfor
"Good evening, could I have... two copies of the Evening Herald, please."
"That''''ll be twenty-four pence, sir." The newsagent pulled ters froa stad haheover.
Cyril fuled in his pocket before produg a one-pound note. "Sorry, I don''''t have any ge."
"No tter." The newsagent took the note, opened his cash box, and began ting out s one by one. "...fifty peen pence..."
A sharp whistle blew.
Cyril looked bad saw the train guard raising his green flag.
"Keep the ge!" he alst shouted, grabbing the neers and turning to run.
"Cheers, sir!" the newsagent called after hiwith a wave.
The soles of his leather shoes tapped a frantic rhython the crete platfor Cyril could hear the heavy slaof carriage doors behind hi eae closer than the last.
As he reached his carriage door, an attendant was already reag for the heavy handle.
"Please, wait!" Cyril yelled.
The attendant saw hi breathless, and frowned, but pulled his hand back, holding the space for hi "Quickly now, sir!"
"Sorry, sir." Cyril grabbed the handrail and stepped up.
The train began to slide forward beh his feet. The attendant slaed the door shut behind hiwith a loud thud, cutting off the platfor''s noise.
Leaning against the carriage wall, Cyril caught his breath. The neers in his ar were slightly cruled. He pulled o and ope...
When Cyril returo their seats, he found that Charles had opened his eyes at so point.
"My apologies, I thought you were asleep, Minister." He placed the neer on the sll table and straightened his tie, trying to sk his ret dishevelnt.
"How is it?" Charles asked, his voice a little hoarse.
"Yes, Minister," Cyril said, as Charles unfolded the paper. "The tone of the local evening paper is lder than anticipated. They gave detailed ce to your senar."
The headline of the Plyuth Evening Herald, in large, bold type, read:
Festival Falters: Minister Gets Seaweed Salute
Below was a blad-white photograph taken frothe side of the stage. In it, Charles''''s back looked sowhat isolated, while the expressions of the fishern in the crowd were difficult to dis.
Charles quickly sed the article, finding the tone far re balahan he had expected; it eveailed the proses he had de at the se