Explore "The Purple Fern" by Fergus Hume on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
In that little room, with its vivid colouring and heavy scented atmosphere, the two women faced each other, bent upon battle. At the outset, the advantage lay with Zara, seeing how she had penetrated the disguise of the devoted sister. For one moment the dancer eyed the pale and startled face of her visitor, and then crossed to a bronze tripod of classic shape and beauty, wherein smouldered a pastille. While lighting another one, she threw a careless glance over her shoulder.
"Well," she said, quietly, "have you nothing to say?"