Explore "Colonel Quaritch, V. C" by H. Rider Haggard on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"Is that you, father? " said a voice, a very sweet voice, but one of which the tones betrayed the irritation natural to a healthy woman who has been kept waiting for her dinner. The voice came from the recesses of the dusky room in which the evening gloom had gathered deeply, and looking in its direction, Harold Quaritch could see the outline of a tall form sitting in an old oak chair with its hands crossed.
"Is that you, father? Really it is too bad to be so late for dinner-especially after you blew up that wretched Emma last night because she was five minutes after time. I have been waiting so long that I have almost been asleep."