Explore "The Gilded Chair" by Melville Davisson Post on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The Marchesa went up to the deck of the yacht. She had dressed early and there was yet an hour to wait. A deep topaz twilight lay on the world. There was no darkness. It was as though all the light remained, but it came now through a colored window. At the door she stopped. Out beyond her Cyrus Childers was walking backward and forward along the deck. His step was quick and elastic; his back straight. Age sat lightly on him. She watched him for a moment, and then she went over to him.
"Ah, Marchesa," he said, in his big voice; "what do you think of this night?"