Mary Marston
It was an evening early in May. The sun was low and the street was mottled with the shadows of its paving-stones-smooth enough but far from evenly set. The sky was clear except for a few clouds in the west hardly visible in the dazzle of the huge light which lay among them like a liquid that had broken its vessel and was pouring over the fragments.
Read book Mary Marston for free
Write Review:
Guest
Read Also
8 / 10
9 / 10
User Reviews: