Explore "The Black Moth" by Georgette Heyer on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
My lord came sighing back to life. He opened his eyes wearily, and turned his head. A faint feeling of surprise stole over him. He was in a room he had never been in before, and by the window, busy with some needlework, sat a little old lady who was somehow vaguely familiar.
"Who -- are -- you? " he asked, and was annoyed to find his voice so weak.