Explore "The Man with a Secret" by Fergus Hume on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Is this the face I loved of yore, Ere years had run; Alas! I care for it no more Old love is done; We soon forget what we adore At twenty-one.
It was now about four o'clock in the afternoon and the short autumnal day was rapidly closing in, the grey veil of the sky was rent here and there showing a patch of pale cold blue, while the setting sun was tinting the ragged clouds in the west with iridescent hues.