Explore "The Face In The Abyss" by Abraham Merritt on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
SUARRA'S SOFT HANDS caressed him, she was murmuring broken words of pity, of endearment. He mastered his weakness, and broke away from Regor. The immense vestibule was filled with Indian soldiers in the Mother's blue, and some score of the nobles. Now these latter strode toward them, eagerly, their customary poise banished by devouring curiosity. But Regor waved them aside.
"To the Mother--and at once. Suarra, you are not harmed?"