Explore "The Calendar" by Edgar Wallace on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
WENDA CAME through the french windows that opened on to the lawn, part of the garden itself in her flowered dress. She was lovely -- there was no getting away from that fact. Here was temptation to depart from lines of sanity -- and decency, Garry made this mental addition.
It was the very beauty of her that made the scheme all the more revolting to him. He looked past Wenda to Willie, stumping his way across the lawn, a scowl on his face, his walking-stick slashing viciously at a flower which offended him. Willie was the sort who was offended by objects which expressed placidity.