Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Beyond the City Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

"If you please, mum," said the voice of a domestic from somewhere round the angle of the door, "number three is moving in."Two little old ladies, who were sitting at either side of a table, sprang to their feet with ejaculations of interest, and rushed to the window of the sitting-room."Take care, Monica dear," said one, shrouding herself in the lace curtain; "don't let them see us."No, no, Bertha. We must not give them reason to say that their neighbors are inquisitive. But I think that we are safe if we stand like this."The open window looked out upon a sloping lawn, well trimmed and pleasant, with fuzzy rosebushes and a star-shaped bed of sweet-william. It was bounded by a low wooden fence, which screened it off from a broad, modern, new metaled road.