Explore "The Inquisitor" by Hugh Walpole on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Christmas Eve was on a Saturday this year. The weather was bright, sharp, with a suggestion of warmth behind it.
Although the sky was a winter's blue and the sun shone through a faint mist, yet you could be reminded that, not so very far south, palm trees grew in the open, and that in the Scillies there would be, in a week or two, a soil covered with flowers.