Explore "The Lake of Wine" by Bernard Capes on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The man's face looked fallen and hectic; but he was recovered at least of his fit. Darda clung to his arm, a frail, defiant, wisp of a thing, her hair a quivering mist of fire in the light of the low-down sun.
"Whither away?" said the baronet in surprise. "My horse, Whimple."