Explore "The Lonely House" by Marie Belloc Lowndes on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Lily Fairfield seemed to be rushing along a dark tunnel. It was as if / she were being borne on wings. A keen, delicately perfumed air was / blowing in her face. Far ahead of her there was a pin-point gleam of / bright light-that surely must be the end of the tunnel? But as she swept / on and on, farther and farther, the gleam did not grow larger or / brighter. It seemed to remain, a white fixed star of light, infinitely / far away.
Though the experience was intensely vivid, in a sense the girl was / conscious that she was experiencing one of the strange, curious dreams, / not wholly unpleasant, though sometimes verging on nightmare, which had / haunted her at certain intervals during the whole of her not very long / life.