Explore "A Son of Ishmael" by L.T. Meade on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When Nance entered her drawing-room Rowton was waiting to receive her. He was standing by the hearth. A great fire burned in the grate. Nance, as she entered at the extreme further door, saw a picture which caused her to give an exclamation of fresh delight; she looked down a long vista of lovely furniture, of knick knacks, of small tables, of flowering plants which filled the air with a subtle perfume, and saw her husband's noble figure in evening dress as he waited for her. She scarcely noticed the dress, but her heart leapt up to receive the smile which shone out of the dark eyes and trembled round the lips. Then her gaze travelled a step further. Close by the man stood someone else-a slender boy, who might have been any age from nine to eleven, dressed picturesquely in black velvet with a Vandyck collar.
Each feature of his bold dark face was a counterpart of the dark face of the man who towered above him; by the boy's side, the boy's hand resting on his head, was a huge German boarhound, a magnificent creature of perfect breed.