"Not dangerously, I hope," returned Thames; "but fly—save yourself. We’ll have some buttered toast. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
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