Explore "A Crime on Canvas" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"OH, you must stay," Ethel murmured. "It will be a real kindness to us, for we see so few people."
Watney hesitated, then inclination got the better of prudence and he decided to throw work to the winds. It would only mean a telegram or two. He could return on Tuesday, and he had not had a week-end for months. As for Lawrence, he asked nothing better than to stay. He saw a welcome in Ethel's eyes. He began a conversation with her in a low voice, whilst Watney was engaging his host in a discourse on old books and manuscripts. Apart from his troubles and worries Sir Arthur was a cultured man. He was only too glad to find a companion after his own heart. No sooner was breakfast over than he dragged Watney to the library leaving Lawrence and Ethel alone. The girl rose presently and opened a window leading to the garden. The sunshine was grateful. The whole earth was filled with the scent of flowers. At the foot of the terrace a bank of white lilacs rose stately in the full panoply of their bloom and fragrance.