Explore "The New Tenant" by E. Phillips Oppenheim on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A woman stood on the little stone piazza of that Italian villa, with her face raised in agony to the blue sky, and her thin white hands wrung together with frantic nervous strength. Her whole attitude was full of the hopeless abandonment of a great tearless grief; and slowly dawning passion, long a stranger to her calm face, was creeping into her features. On the ground, spurned beneath her feet, was a long official-looking letter and envelope. A thunderbolt had flashed down upon the sweet stillness of her serene life.
She was quite alone, and she looked out upon an unbroken solitude -- that fair neglected garden with its high walls which seemed to give it an air of peculiar exclusiveness.