Explore "Thurston of Orchard Valley" by Harold Bindloss on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The rising moon hung low above the lofty pines behind the city, when Millicent sank shivering into a chair beside the window of her bedroom. Under the impact of the blow her teeth had gashed her upper lip, but she did not feel the pain as she sat with hands clenched, looking down on the blaze of silver that grew broader across the inlet. She was faint and dizzy, incapable as yet of definite thought; but confused memories flashed through her brain, one among them more clearly than the rest. Instead of land-locked water shimmering beneath the Western pines, she saw dim English beeches with the coppery disk of the rising moon behind, and she heard a tall man speak with stinging scorn to one who cowered before him among the shadows.
"I was mad that night, and have paid for the madness ever since. Now when it is too late I know what I have lost! " she gasped with a catch of the breath that was a sob repressed.