Explore "The Red Cross Barge" by Marie Belloc Lowndes on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Jeanne Rouannes suddenly awoke from what had been a seven hours' deep, / death-like sleep. Awoke? Ah no! As she sat up in a darkness broken by / tiny, wraithlike shafts of sunlight, she half smiled, half frowned at / the strangeness of the nightmare in the mazes of which she found herself / involved.
Instead of being in her blue-and-white room at home, surrounded by all / her girlish treasures, and lying in the old-fashioned mahogany bed, / opposite which hung a charming portrait, painted some thirty years ago, / of her gentle, dead mother, she seemed to be -- of all the most absurdly / improbable places -- in the sacristy of the parish church, and sitting / up, fully dressed, on a heap of dirty grey coats!