Explore "The Touchstone" by Edith Wharton on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
HE rose next morning with the resolve to know what Alexa thought of him. It was not anchoring in a haven, but lying to in a storm -- he felt the need of a temporary lull in the turmoil of his sensations.
He came home late, for they were dining alone and he knew that they would have the evening together. When he followed her to the drawing-room after dinner he thought himself on the point of speaking; but as she handed him his coffee he said, involuntarily: "I shall have to carry this off to the study, I've got a lot of work to-night."