Explore "The Wings of Victory" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Dorn lay luxuriously back in a big arm-chair in the room where de Barsac had set up his studio, and smoked his cigar with the air of a connoisseur. He had lunched well, a little comforted by the knowledge that Sylvia was no longer under the same roof as himself, but there was just the shade of anxiety on his face and a moody gleam in his eyes. De Barsac sat opposite him, with a cigarette between his lips.
"Well, what do you make of it?" he asked.