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Fiction Books
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                by: 
                                Henry Slesar                                
            
        
                                 The woman in the doorway looked like Mom in the homier political cartoons. She was plump, apple-cheeked, white-haired. She wore a fussy, old-fashioned nightgown, and was busily clutching a worn house-robe around her expansive middle. She blinked at Sol Becker's rain-flattened hair and hang-dog expression, and said: "What is it? What do you want?" "I'm sorry—" Sol's...
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                                 CLARA MILITCH I In the spring of 1878 there was living in Moscow, in a small wooden house in Shabolovka, a young man of five-and-twenty, called Yakov Aratov. With him lived his father's sister, an elderly maiden lady, over fifty, Platonida Ivanovna. She took charge of his house, and looked after his household expenditure, a task for which Aratov was utterly unfit. Other relations he had none. A...
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                                 INTRODUCTORY. With my Aunt Tabithy. "Pshaw!" said my Aunt Tabithy, "have you not done with dreaming?" My Aunt Tabithy, though an excellent and most notable person, loves occasionally a quiet bit of satire. And when I told her that I was sharpening my pen for a new story of those dreamy fancies and half-experiences which lie grouped along the journeying hours of my solitary life, she...
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                by: 
                                Kenneth Grahame                                
            
        
                                 THE TWENTY-FIRST OF OCTOBER In the matter of general culture and attainments, we youngsters stood on pretty level ground. True, it was always happening that one of us would be singled out at any moment, freakishly, and without regard to his own preferences, to wrestle with the inflections of some idiotic language long rightly dead; while another, from some fancied artistic tendency which always failed...
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                                 A Feather in his Cap. âOh, I say, what a jolly shame!â âGet out; itâs all gammon. Likely.â âI believe itâs true. Dick Darrellâs a regular pet of Sir George Hemsworth.â âYes; the old storyâkissing goes by favour.â âI shall cut the service. Itâs rank favouritism.â âI shall write home and tell my father to get the thing shown...
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                                 The region discussed in this bulletin is situated in western Connecticut and is approximately 8 miles wide and 18 miles long in a north-south direction, as shown on .Throughout, the rocks are crystalline and include gneiss, schist, and marble--the metamorphosed equivalents of a large variety of ancient sedimentary and igneous rocks.For the purposes of this report, the geologic history may be said to...
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                by: 
                                Bram Stoker                                
            
        
                                 Dracula's Guest When we started for our drive the sun was shining brightly on Munich, and the air was full of the joyousness of early summer. Just as we were about to depart, Herr Delbruck (the maitre d'hotel of the Quatre Saisons, where I was staying) came down, bareheaded, to the carriage and, after wishing me a pleasant drive, said to the coachman, still holding his hand on the handle of...
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                by: 
                                Bram Stoker                                
            
        
                                 CHAPTER 1 3 May. Bistritz.--Left Munich at 8:35 P.M., on 1st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:46, but train was an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful place, from the glimpse which I got of it from the train and the little I could walk through the streets. I feared to go very far from the station, as we had arrived late and would start as near the correct time as...
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                                 CHAPTER I. The main road to wealth in New Orleans has long been Carondelet street. There you see the most alert faces; noses—it seems to one—with more and sharper edge, and eyes smaller and brighter and with less distance between them than one notices in other streets. It is there that the stock and bond brokers hurry to and fro and run together promiscuously—the cunning and the simple, the...
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                by: 
                                Dr. Halifax                                
            
        
                                 Two young men in flannels were standing outside the door of the Red Doe in the picturesque village of Grandcourt. The village contained one long and straggling street. The village inn was covered with ivy, wistaria, flowering jessamine, monthly roses, and many other creepers. The flowers twined round old-fashioned windows, and nodded to the guests when they awoke in the morning and breathed perfume...
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