Explore "In Love's Hands" by Bertha M. Clay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Mr. Heriton, a portly, handsome man, scarcely past the middle age, was walking about the drawing room, addressing an occasional observation to his lady, who was sitting near a window which commanded the route Frank and Florence had taken an hour previously.
She had the hectic color and fragile form of continual suffering, and every time Mr. Heriton raised his voice or pushed a chair out of his way she put her hand to her side as if to stay the quickened beating of her heart. But she answered him cheerfully, with a smile on her lip, though a close observer might have detected in her eyes an anxious scrutiny of her restless husband, who was both moody and irritable.