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Excerpt from Harrington: A Story of True Love
She paused again, Speechless with fury. The tornado which many thought the brassy ¿are Upon the landscape portended, had its proper fulfillment in the raging whirl of passions within her. Mr. Lafitte sat at ease, slowly tilting his chair to and fro, the jewelled fingers Of his brown left hand clasped around the stem of a crystal goblet on the table, his right hand carelessly thrust into a side pocket Of his white coat, and re garded her with a sardonic smile on his dark visage, while slipping to and fro in the sluggish pool Of light upon the ¿oor, his shadow, like a black familiar, moved with an oily motion behind him.
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