Explore "The Last Lemurian: A Westralian Romance" by G. Firth Scott on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
MY next rational conception was to realise that I was lying in a remarkably cool and comfortable bed, in a room into which the scent of flowers came through the half-opened lattice window. That was all my eyes could see when I again consciously opened them, and I moved slightly in order to see more.
Immediately a nurse in a grey costume, with white cuffs and apron, appeared at my bedside; and I blinked at her, the more puzzled that there lingered in my brain shreds of delirium night-mare, strangely blended with the familiar face and form of this girl. She smiled as her eyes met mine.