Explore "Guilty Bonds" by William Le Queux on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A few hours had elapsed since my acquittal, and after a brush up and a hasty meal I had entered Vera's sitting-room.
It was already dark. The tiny electric lamps flooded with amber light the small apartment rendered cosy by the drawn curtains. On a lounge chair she sat, wrapped in a pale grey cashmere gown, with a bunch of crimson roses in her breast. At sight of me she rose. Not a muscle of her countenance stirred, I and could divine her embarrassment by the sharp glance she momentarily darted at me.