Explore "Mothers of Men" by William Henry Warner on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
For awhile she lay motionless, half stunned by the force of the explosion. When full consciousness returned to her the firing had grown fainter, more infrequent. She rose to her feet and went to the window. Out in the courtyard a great hole gaped where the shell had struck. Glass from the windows lay scattered about, a garden bench was splintered and overturned. Havoc and ruin stared back at her. Had Madame and the rest escaped? Or had they been killed, and she, alone, left untouched?
She stood in the center of the room, dazed, her fingers clutching nervously, her chin quivering. It seemed years ago that she had arrived here with Gerome to be in the shelter of his home, to be with his people in her hour of need, and now she was alone.