The Friday 56: Enola Holmes and the Black Barouche

My journey was uneventful, and I arrived at Dorking- a market town rather smaller than I expected- in time for a late luncheon at none too fancy an eatery. After a bowl of beef stew and one of bread pudding- such was the available fare- I walked back to the station to rent a bicycle, but I was told, with raised eyebrows, that no such newfangled self-propelled transportation was to be had, and I was directed to the livery stables next door.

I’m very curious on what goes on around here. It seems like an important place. Maybe something important will happen. I’m excited to read this book!

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