Electronic Resource
E-book The gloved hand
I was genuinely tired when I got back to the office, that Wednesday
afternoon, for it had been a trying day--the last of the series of
trying days which had marked the progress of the Minturn case; and my
feeling of depression was increased by the fact that our victory had
not been nearly so complete as I had hoped it would be. Besides, there
was the heat; always, during the past ten days, there had been the
heat, unprecedented for June, with the thermometer climbing higher and
higher and breaking a new record every day. As I threw off coat and hat and dropped into the chair before my desk,
I could see the heat-waves quivering up past the open windows from the
fiery street below. I turned away and closed my eyes, and tried to
evoke a vision of white surf falling upon the beach, of tall trees
swaying in the breeze, of a brook dropping gently between green banks.
"Fountains that frisk and sprinkle
The moss they overspill;
Pools that the breezes crinkle,"...
and then I stopped, for the door had opened. I unclosed my eyes to
see the office-boy gazing at me in astonishment. He was a well-trained
boy, and recovered himself in an instant.
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