Explore "Colonel Quaritch, V. C" by H. Rider Haggard on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
At last she spoke, apparently with a great effort.
"It is stifling in here," she said, "let us go out. " She rose, took up a shawl that lay beside her on a chair, and stepped through the French window into the garden. It was a lovely autumn night, and the air was still as death, with just a touch of frost in it.