Explore "The Old House in the City" by Agnes Giberne on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THAT same afternoon, the last ray of the setting sun, which shone brightly on Josie Therlock during her happy homeward journey, crept lazily, half-veiled by smoke, through the window of Job Kippis' garret.
It fell upon Job himself first, lending a sparkle to his silver hair, and a light to his steady eyes. It cast his shadow behind on the bare wall, and crept over the aquiline face of the Duke's portrait over the fireplace. And just as it was taking itself away from Job Kippis' hands, busied with some tough army-cloth, the door opened, and Ailie bounded in.