Explore "The Protector" by Harold Bindloss on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was about the middle of the morning and Vane sat in Nairn's office. Specimens of ore lately received from the mine were scattered about a table, and Nairn had some papers in his hand.
"Weel? " he said, when Vane, after examining two or three of the stones abruptly flung them down.