Explore "The King Behind the King" by Warwick Deeping on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
She was not there when Fulk turned the boat; the little landing-stage was deserted. Isoult had gone into the house.
He dropped the pole lazily into the shallows, and heard the water prattling at the prow, and as the boat moved over towards the island a surge of emotion rose in him, a sudden wonder, something akin to awe. The long slants of sunlight made blurs of gold about him on the water. The woods seemed fringed with fire. The evening was very strange and very still.