Explore "Transplanted" by Gertrude Atherton on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
She walked rapidly along the corridor toward the tower. But in a moment or two she turned back and went in the direction of the library. It was Randolph's habit to read there when the other guests were playing and romping. To-night's frolic would certainly not have appealed to him. It was more than possible that he was there alone, or in his room; and to-morrow he must go with the others. It might be years before she would see him again, and it would be culpable not to make him a last appeal. If the Abbey was lost it should not be for want of effort on her part.
Randolph was in the library, and alone. He rose with a brilliant smile of pleasure, then stood and looked hard at her.