Explore "Frances Kane's Fortune" by L.T. Meade on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The day on which Ellen Danvers arrived at the Firs was long remembered, all over the place, as the hottest which had been known in that part of the country for many a long year. It was the first week of July, and the sun blazed fiercely and relentlessly -- not the faintest little zephyr of a breeze stirred the air -- in the middle of the day, the birds altogether ceased singing, and the Firs, lying in its sheltered valley, was hushed into a hot, slumberous quiet, during which not a sound of any sort was audible.
Even the squire preferred a chair in the south parlor, which was never a cool room, and into which the sun poured, to venturing abroad; even he shuddered at the thought of the South Walk to-day. He was not particularly hot -- he was too old for that -- but the great heat made him feel languid, and presently he closed his eyes and fell into a doze.