Explore "A Master of Craft" by W.W. Jacobs on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
He was awake early in the morning, and, opening the door, stood delightedly breathing the fresh, pine-scented air.
The atmosphere of the Blue Posts was already half forgotten, and he stood looking dreamily forward to the time when he might reasonably return to life and Poppy. He took a few steps into the wood and, after feeling for his pipe before he remembered that Miss Tipping was probably keeping it as a souvenir, sat on a freshly-cut log and fell into a sentimental reverie, until the appearance of a restless old man at the door of the cottage took him back to breakfast.