Romance Books

No description available

CHAPTER I The clock in the tower of the village church had just struck the quarter. In the southeast a pale dawn light was beginning to show above the curving hollow of the down wherein the village lay enfolded; but the face of the down itself was still in darkness. Farther to the south, in a stretch of clear night sky hardly touched by the mounting dawn, Venus shone enthroned, so large and brilliant,... more...

Chapter One. May 13th, 1895. Lena Streatham gave me this diary. I can’t think what possessed her, for she has been simply hateful to me sometimes this last term. Perhaps it was remorse, because it’s awfully handsome, with just the sort of back I like—soft Russia leather, with my initials in the corner, and a clasp with a dear little key, so that you can leave it about without other people seeing... more...

The "owner of the copyright" guarantees that "The Young Visiters" is the unaided effort in fiction of an authoress of nine years. "Effort," however, is an absurd word to use, as you may see by studying the triumphant countenance of the child herself, which is here reproduced as frontispiece to her sublime work. This is no portrait of a writer who had to burn the oil at midnight... more...

A FATHER INVITES DISASTER Pauline Gardiner joined us on the day that we, the Second Reader class, moved from the basement to the top story of the old Central Public School. Her mother brought her and, leaving, looked round at us, meeting for an instant each pair of curious eyes with friendly appeal. We knew well the enchanted house where she lived—stately, retreated far into large grounds in... more...

THE SEARCH I Two young men in officers’ uniforms entered the smoker of a suburban train, and after the usual formalities of matches and cigarettes settled back to enjoy their ride out to Bryne Haven. “What d’ye think of that girl I introduced you to the other night, Harry? Isn’t she a pippin?” asked the second lieutenant taking a luxurious puff at his cigarette. “I should say, Bobbie,... more...

PROLOGUE I never met Gabrielle Hewish. I suppose I should really call her by that name, for her marriage took the colour out of it as surely as if she had entered a nunnery, and adopted the frigid and sisterly label of some female saint. Nobody had ever heard of her husband before she married him, and nobody ever heard of Gabrielle afterwards, except those who were acquainted with the story of Arthur... more...

I. IRENE DE CHATEAUDUN to MME. LA VICOMTESSE DE BRAIMES,Hotel de la Préfecture,GRENOBLE (Isère). PARIS, May 16th, 18—. You are a great prophetess, my dear Valentino. Your predictions are verified. Thanks to my peculiar disposition, I am already in the most deplorably false position that a reasonable mind and romantic heart could ever have contrived. With you, naturally and instinctively, I have... more...

CHAPTER ONE AN EXPERIMENT IN EMOTION "… A genial … bachelor, whom the outside world called selfish because it derived no particular benefit from him.…" Oscar Wilde: "The Picture of Dorian Gray." 1 Eric Lane, visible only from ear to chin above the water-line, peered through the steam of the bathroom at a travelling-clock on his dressing-table. The bath would have been improved... more...

CHAPTER I ONE FLEETING VISION It all happened in less than two minutes, and yet in that brief space of time his entire outlook upon life was changed. He saw her across the street standing upon the edge of the sidewalk facing the throng of teams and motors that were surging by. She had evidently attempted to cross, but had hurriedly retreated owing to the tremendous crush of traffic. The gleam of the... more...