Excerpt from The Mettle of the Pasture
She did not wish any supper and she sank forgetfully back into the stately oak chair. One of her hands lay palm upward on her white lap; in the other, which drooped over the arm of the chair, she clasped a Это и многое другое вы найдете в книге The Mettle of the Pasture (Classic Reprint) (James Lane Allen)