gaspily

Updated: May 16, 2025

As Rufe finished this with a mighty CRESCENDO, he was obliged to pause for breath. He stared about, gaspily. The afternoon was waning. The mountains close at hand were a darker green. The distant ranges had assumed a rosy amethystine tint, like nothing earthly like the mountains of a dream, perhaps.

Mary Noailles Murfree - Down the Ravine