Explore "Long Odds" by Harold Bindloss on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Ormsgill, who reclined among the sugar bags, lighted a cigarette one of the officers had given him before he turned to Desmond.
"I don't know if you are comfortable on that case, but, as you see, I haven't another seat to offer you, and these bags are a trifle sticky," he said. "I understand that my jailers were instructed to show me every consideration."