Explore "The Fortunes of Oliver Horn" by Francis Hopkinson Smith on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
One spring morning, some time after the visit of the Countess to the club and the painting of her portrait by Oliver -- the incident had become the talk of the studios before the week was out -- Oliver sat in his own rooms on the top floor, drinking his coffee -- the coffee he had boiled himself. The janitor had just slipped two letters through a slit in the door. Both lay on the floor within reach of his hand. One was from his mother, bearing the postmark of his native city; the other was from a prominent picture-dealer on Broadway, with a gallery and big window looking out on the street.
Oliver broke the seal of his mother's letter, and moved his chair so that the light from the overhead skylight would fall on its pages.