Explore "The Dumpling" by Coulson Kernahan on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Then she recognised me. Except for the fact that her face suddenly flamed and then as suddenly hardened, her breeding stood her in good stead, and with cold, clear eyes, which looked as indifferently into mine as if I had been a stranger calling to solicit a subscription to some charity, she pointed me to a chair.
"You bring me news of my father? " she inquired, with a composure which was possibly assumed for my benefit, or, rather, for my discomfiture.