Explore "My Novel, Book V" by Edward Bulwer-lytton on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Mr. Digby entered the room of the inn in which he had left Helen. She was seated by the window, and looking out wistfully on the narrow street, perhaps at the children at play. There had never been a playtime for Helen Digby.
She sprang forward as her father came in. His coming was her holiday.