Explore "Nell, of Shorne Mills" by Charles Garvice on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Nell sat still--very, very still. The vast room seemed to rise and sway before her like a ship in a heavy sea; the lights danced in a mad whirl; the music roared a chaos of sound in her ears, and a deathly feeling crept over her.
"I will not faint--I will not faint!" she said to herself, clenching her teeth hard, and gripping her dress with her cold hands. "It is a mistake--a mistake. It is not Drake. I thought I saw him the other night; it is thinking, always thinking of him, that makes me fancy any one like him must be he! Yes; it is a mistake."