Explore "The Long Run" by Edith Wharton on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was long past midnight, and the terrier's hints became imperious.
Merrick rose from his chair, pushed back a fallen log and put up the fender. He walked across the room and stared a moment at the Brangwyn etching before which Paulina Trant had paused at a memorable turn of their talk. Then he came back and laid his hand on my shoulder.