Explore "The Scales of Justice" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Marston was seated over the fire, nursing a pain that was eloquently reflected in his face. A half-smoked cigar by his side testified that he had found no alleviation that way. Yet he was quite courteous and polite as the girls came in. Jessie had gone down to the village, and had not yet returned. Would the ladies be seated, Marston asked.
"We are not going to stay five minutes," Flora said. "Mr. Marston, I want you to do something for me."