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CHAPTER I
THE FORTUNE TELLER
On a day in May, not so long ago, Joan Vernon, coming out into the sunshine from her lodging in the Place de la Sorbonne, smiled a morning greeting to the statue of Auguste Comte, founder of Positivism. It would have puzzled her to explain what Positivism meant, or why it should be merely positive and not stoutly comparative or grandly superlative. As a teacher, therefore, Comte made no appeal. She just liked the... more...
The ordered interminglingof the real and the dream,—The mill above the river,and the mist above the stream;The life of ceaseless labor,brave with song and cheery call—The radiant skies of evening,with its rainbow o'er us all.
An Old Sweetheart of Mine!—Is thisher presence here with me,Or but a vain creation ofa lover's memory?
A fair, illusive visionthat would vanish into airDared I even touch the silencewith the whisper of... more...
CHAPTER I
“
You may not care for the play,” Ellison said eagerly. “You are of the old world, and Isteinism to you will simply spell chaos and vulgarity. But the woman! well, you will see her! I don’t want to prejudice you by praises which you would certainly think extravagant! I will say nothing.”
Matravers smiled gravely as he took his seat in the box and looked out with some wonder at the ill-lit, half-empty... more...
THE PENALTY
I
The number of love affairs which intervened between Barbara Ferris's first one, when she was eleven, and her twenty-second birthday could not have been counted on the fingers of her two hands. Many boys, many men, had seemed wonderfully attractive to her. She did not know why. She knew only that the attraction seemed strong and eternal while it lasted, and that it never lasted long. She was sixteen before she began to consider... more...
CHAPTER I
Hayden was back in New York again after several years spent in the uttermost parts of the earth. He had been building railroads in South America, Africa, and China, and had maintained so many lodges in this or that wilderness that he really feared he might be curiously awkward in adapting himself to the conventional requirements of civilization. In his long roundabout journey home he had stopped for a few weeks in both London and... more...