Jones Chapter Twelve AMERICA DIDN’T FEEL ANY DIFFERENT. And she certainly didn’t see anything different. In fact, as she looked around she felt a little silly. Even the oval sign that hung above the pub was the same. She wrinkled her brow and stepped closer. Strange, the lettering was muddled. “Ezzich errsitch dlow aye.” She whispered, sounding out the foreign words. “Hold on.” She reached into her coat pocket and retrieved the small hand mirror. Angling it up at the overhead sign, she smiled. Ye Old Cheshire Cheese. As she lowered the looking glass she caught sight of a man on its surface, waving. She whirled in a circle. “Phaeton?” “Come have a look!” Phaeton was standing out on Fleet Street. America picked up her skirts and hurried down the passageway. He opened his arms and she leaped into his embrace. Holding her tight, he soothed her fears. At the same time he excited her senses, by just being . . . him. He kissed her cheeks and the tip of her nose. “We’re down the rabbit hole, love.”
What do You think about The Moonstone And Miss Jones?
