E. Phillips Oppenheim

A QUEER, unexpected streak of sunshine, which by some miracle had found its way through a pall of clouds and low-hanging mist, suddenly fell as though exhausted across the asphalt path of the Embankment Gardens. A tall, gaunt young man, who had been seated with folded arms in the corner of one of the seats, stared at it as though bewildered. His eyes suddenly met those of a young lady in deep black, who was gazing about her in similar stupefaction. Almost at once, and with perfect spontaneity, she smiled upon him...

Jovian Press

Aaron Rodd, Diviner

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