Explore "Flat 2" by Edgar Wallace on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The room looked little like that of a flat in the West End of London.
Oriental tapestries and embroidered silks, emblazoned with every hue, were strewn about, cushions of exotic design in pro-fusion. A gold hookah stood near a wide settee, its pale-blue smoke mingling with that from the perfumed cigarette which the girl smoked, seated amongst the cushions, her feet on a carved footstool.