Explore "The Centaur" by Algernon Blackwood on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was at the close of a wet and foggy autumn that we met again, winter in the air, all London desolate; and his wasted, forlorn appearance told me the truth at once. Only the passionate eagerness of voice and manner were there to prove that the spirit had not weakened. There glowed within a fire that showed itself in the translucent shining of the eyes and face.
"I've made one great discovery, old man," he exclaimed with old, familiar, high enthusiasm, "one great discovery at least."