Explore "Revolving Lights" by Dorothy M. Richardson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
She was inside the dark little hall, her luggage being set down in the shadows by the brisk silent maid. At the sight of the wide green staircase ascending to the upper world, the incidents of the journey, translated as she drove to the house into material for conversation, fell away and vanished.
The thud of the swing door, the flurry of summer skirts threshed by flying footsteps; Alma hurrying to meet her.... It was folly; madness; to flout the year's fatigue by coming here to stay, instead of going away with friends also tired and seeking holiday....