Older than the old face at the table before him, than the office furniture, which had been there before he was born, than his father’s portrait over the desk; older even than the tulip-tree bowing its graceful head to his window. Very old. They said the tulip-tree blossomed no more than once in a hundred years. It was an ancient tree, biding its time as ancient things may. But Lancaster felt older even than that.…
Your support pays for translating these classics into more languages.
Support for $12/month DonateSubscribers read with instant translation, without waiting for the free daily limit.