Explore "Doomsday" by Warwick Deeping on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
There was no fire burning in the house, but Furze brought an armful of dry wood in the living-room, and found Rose standing in her stockinged feet, looking at dirty plates and the ragged end of mutton on the table. "Poor man," she had thought; "no wonder he comes up to us sometimes." Her wet feet had left marks upon the red tiles.
Furze threw the wood on the hearth.