Explore "The Amethyst Ring" by Anatole France on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Madame Worms-Clavelin came along through the rainy darkness, holding up her umbrella, and walking with the brisk, decided step which, for a wonder, had not grown heavy from long years spent in provincial towns. The door of the carriage that was waiting for her in front of the gates of the Park Monceau, opened a little, and then stood wide, and Madame Worms-Clavelin slipped calmly in and took a seat beside the young secretary, who immediately inquired as to her health.
"I am always well," she replied, adding, "What awful weather!"