Explore "Oberland" by Dorothy M. Richardson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
She followed the little servant, who had darted forth to seize her baggage, into a small lounge whose baking warmth recalled the worst of the train journey; seeming -- though, since still one breathed, air was there -- like an overheated vacuum.
The brisk little maid, untroubled, was already at the top of a short flight of wide red-carpeted stairs, and making impatient rallying sounds -- like one recalling a straying dog. Miriam went gladly to the promise of the upper air. But in going upwards there was no relief.