Explore "Phroso" by Antonio Hope on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The next morning came bright and beautiful, with a pleasant fresh breeze. It was just the day for a run in the yacht. So I thought when I mounted on deck at eight o'clock in the morning. Watkins was there, staring meditatively at the harbour and the street beyond. Perceiving me, he touched his hat and observed:
'It's a queer little place, my lord.'