The Great Modern English Stories: An Anthology

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Edward Joseph O'Brien
Boni and Liveright, 1919 - 366 pages
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Page 36 - And then the humour of the situation struck him, and he laughed and looked lightly up to heaven, where the stars seemed to be winking over his discomfiture. What was to be done ? It looked very like a night in the frosty streets. The idea of the dead woman popped into his imagination, and gave him a hearty fright ; what had happened to her in the early night might very well happen to him before morning. And he so young! and with such immense possibilities of disorderly amusement before him! He felt...
Page 8 - I am rather thin in the vamp," he said freely, seeing that the eyes of the shepherd's wife fell upon his boots, " and I am not well fitted, either. I have had some rough times lately, and have been forced to pick up what I can get in the way of wearing, but I must find a suit better fit for working-days when I reach home.
Page 37 - He passed a street corner, where, not so long before, a woman and her child had been devoured by wolves. This was just the kind of weather, he reflected, when wolves might take it into their heads to enter Paris again; and a lone man in these deserted streets would run the chance of something worse than a mere scare. He stopped and looked upon the place with an unpleasant interest — it was a centre where several lanes intersected each other; and he looked down them all, one after another, and held...
Page 8 - I am rather cracked in the vamp,' he said freely, seeing that the eyes of the shepherd's wife fell upon his boots, ' and I am not well fitted either. I have had some rough times lately, and have been forced to pick up what I can get in the way of wearing, but I must...
Page 4 - Fennel fell back upon the intermediate plan of mingling short dances with short periods of talk and singing, so as to hinder any ungovernable rage in either. But this scheme was entirely confined to her own gentle mind: the shepherd himself was in the mood to exhibit the most reckless phases of hospitality. The fiddler was a boy of those parts, about twelve years of age, who had a wonderful dexterity in jigs and reels, though his fingers were so small and short as to necessitate a constant shifting...
Page 27 - ... the cemetery of St. John. Yet there was a small house, backed up against the cemetery wall, which was still awake, and awake to evil purpose, in that snoring district. There was not much to betray it from without; only a stream of warm vapor from the chimney-top, a patch where the snow melted on the roof, and a few half-obliterated footprints at the door. But within, behind the shuttered windows, Master Francis Villon the poet, and some of the thievish crew with whom he consorted, were keeping...
Page 7 - said the shepherd promptly. The latch clicked upward, and out of the night our pedestrian appeared upon the door-mat. The shepherd arose, snuffed two of the nearest candles, and turned to look at him. Their light disclosed that the stranger was dark in complexion and not unprepossessing as to feature. His hat, which for a moment he did not remove, hung low over his eyes, without concealing that they were large, open, and determined, moving with a flash rather than a glance round the room. He seemed...
Page 15 - Walk in!" The door was gently opened, and another man stood upon the mat. He, like those who had preceded him, was a stranger. This time it was a short, small personage of fair complexion and dressed in a decent suit of dark clothes.
Page 71 - Animula, vagula, blandula! Hospes comesque corporis, Quae nunc abibis in loca? Pallidula, rigida, nudula. Ah, the question! It was a harmony, perhaps (as, who had maintained? whom the Platonic Socrates in the Phaedo had not too successfully refuted), a harmony of life, which was dissolved when life was over?
Page 20 - True; so it is. And I felt as you did, that there were enough without me." "I don't want to break my limbs running over the humps and hollows of this wild country.

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