Explore "The Money Moon" by Jeffery Farnol on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was upon a certain August morning that George Bellew shook the dust of London from his feet, and, leaving Chance, or Destiny to direct him, followed a hap-hazard course, careless alike of how, or when, or where; sighing as often, and as heavily as he considered his heart-broken condition required, -- which was very often, and very heavily, -- yet heeding, for all that, the glory of the sun, and the stir and bustle of the streets about him.
Thus it was that, being careless of his ultimate destination, Fortune condescended to take him under her wing, (if she has one), and guided his steps across the river, into the lovely land of Kent, -- that county of gentle hills, and broad, pleasant valleys, of winding streams and shady woods, of rich meadows and smiling pastures, of grassy lanes and fragrant hedgerows, -- that most delightful land which has been called, and very rightly, "The Garden of England."