Explore "The Honourable Mr. Tawnish" by Jeffery Farnol on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
In most lives (as I suppose) there is a time which, looming ahead of us dark and sombre, fills us with a direful expectancy and a thousand boding fears, so that with every dawn we thank God that it is not yet. Still, the respite thus allowed brings us little ease, for the knowledge of its coming haunts us through the day and night, creeping upon us nearer and nearer with every tick of the clock, until the last chime has rung -- until the sand is all run down in the glass, and we are left face to face with our destiny to front it as we may.
Christmas Day was dawning. From my window I had watched the first pale light gather little by little beyond the distant trees, until the whole dismal scene had come into view.