Explore "The Fever of Life" by Fergus Hume on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
You are a snake, For the sly beast lies Coiled in the brake Of your sleepy eyes, Lo, at your glances my weak soul dies. / Woman you are With a face so fair; But the snake must mar All the woman there. Your eyes affright, but your smiles ensnare.
Such a poor room it was, with a well-worn carpet, shabby furniture, a dingy mirror over the fireplace, and a mean sordid look everywhere. The bright sunshine, pouring in through the dirty windows, showed up the weak points of the apartment in the most relentless manner. Great folding-doors at one side half open, showing an untidy bedroom beyond, and on the other side the many-paned windows, veiled by ragged curtains, looked out into Jepple Street, Bloomsbury.