Explore "Blue Hand" by Edgar Wallace on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
WHILST Jim had been making his search of the deserted house, Eunice had strolled to the edge of the terrace, and, leaning on the broken balustrade, was drinking in the beauty of the scene. Thin wraiths of mist still lingered in the purple shadows of the woods and lay like finest muslin in the hollows. In the still air the blue-grey smoke of the cottagers' fires showed above the tree-tops, and the sun had touched the surface of a stream that wound through a distant valley, so that it showed as a thread of bubbling gold amidst the verdant green.
Somebody touched her gently on the shoulder. She thought it was Jim.