Fiction Books

CHAPTER I THE LAIRD OF GLENCARDINE "Why, what's the matter, child? Tell me." "Nothing, dad—really nothing." "But you are breathing hard; your hand trembles; your pulse beats quickly. There's something amiss—I'm sure there is. Now, what is it? Come, no secrets." The girl, quickly snatching away her hand, answered with a forced laugh, "How absurd you really... more...

PAUL DOMBEY AND FLORENCEON THE BEACH AT BRIGHTON PAUL DOMBEY AND FLORENCEON THE BEACH AT BRIGHTON"Dombey and Son," Chapter VIIIHis favourite spot was quite a lonely one, far away from most loungers; and with Florence sitting by his side at work, or reading to him, or talking to him, and the wind blowing on his face, and the water coming up among the wheels of his bed, he wanted nothing more.... more...

"Attention, Inner-Flight ship! Attention! You are ordered to land at the Control Station on Deimos for inspection. Attention! You are to land at once!" The metallic rasp of the speaker echoed through the corridors of the great ship. The passengers glanced at each other uneasily, murmuring and peering out the port windows at the small speck below, the dot of rock that was the Martian checkpoint,... more...

Talk of heat—or better not—on Xecho. This water-logged world combined all the most unattractive features of a steam bath and one could only dream of coolness, greenness—more land than a stingy string of islands. The young man on the promontory above the crash of the waves wore the winged cap of a spaceman with the insignia of a cargo-master and not much else, save a pair of very short shorts. He... more...

El Camino Real" A small cavalcade was slowly winding down a steep, white road. The bare, brown hills rose up on one side like the earth's friars of St. Francis, while on the other, at some distance away, the Pacific Ocean showed green and still. Near the shore the waves broke into white sprites of foam against the deep, incurving cliffs. A girl riding at the head of the column reined in her... more...

CHAPTER I On a train speeding toward New York, in one of the parlour cars two young women sat facing each other, talking and smiling, deeply absorbed. They took little apparent notice of any one else in the car, but most of the people near them kept throwing curious glances their way. These glances differed vastly, as did the thoughts behind them. A tall, genial Westerner, who looked as though he had... more...

The Camp on the Matya’mhlope. “There! That is Umzilikazi’s grave,” said Christian Sybrandt, pointing out a towering pile of rocks some little way off, across the valley. “Is it? Let’s go and have a look at it then,” was the prompt reply. But immediately upon having made it, the second speaker knew that he had spoken like a fool, for the first gave a short laugh. “Go over and have a look... more...

CHAPTER I. AN ASTRONOMER ROYAL. It was an evening in early autumn in the last year of the nineteenth century. We were nearing the close of a voyage as calm and peaceful as our previous lives. Margaret had been in Europe a couple of years and I had just been over to bring her home, and we were now expecting to reach New York in a day or two. Margaret and I were the best of friends. Indeed, we had loved... more...

CHAPTER 1 As the large motor swung along with the easy velocity and assurance of some enormous bird, Camilla Lancing nestled more cosily into the warmth of her fur wraps. Rupert Haverford was driving, and he looked back every now and then to see if his guest was comfortable. "Is this too quick for you?" he asked once; and Mrs. Lancing only shook her head with a smile. "It is too... more...

Deadly Pollen ZIONISM: to carry forward the cultural gene - O bright-lit destiny of the chosen! The child's bouncing ball lands in mud on the other side of the wire; footsteps are paradoxical in a minefield. His heart ticks fast as a metal detector, slowly, the yellow ball rolls to a stop. Proposition: to advance onto ancestral territory, or return into gentle, familial lands, a footfall journey... more...