Explore "False Dawn" by Edith Wharton on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
LEWIS RAYCIE stood on a projecting rock and surveyed the sublime spectacle of Mont Blanc.
It was a brilliant August day, and the air, at that height, was already so sharp that he had had to put on his fur-lined pelisse. Behind him, at a respectful distance, was the travelling servant who, at a signal, had brought it up to him; below, in the bend of the mountain road, stood the light and elegant carriage which had carried him thus far on his travels.