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Category： Author：novel
It was half-past twelve when I returned to the Albany as a last desperate resort. The scene of my disaster was much as I had left it. The baccarat-counters still strewed the table, with the empty glasses and the loaded ash-trays. A window had been opened to let the smoke out, and was letting in the fog instead. Raffles himself ha...
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Category： Author：novel
Once upon a time there was a very poor boy, who had no cap on his head, no shoes on his feet, and never a penny in his pocket. He was so poor that he did not even have a name. His father had gone to sea many years ago in a ship called The Big Dipper, and as he had never returned, people said surely he must be dead.
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Category： Author：novel
The drays with which I was travelling (it was in the month of March, 1849) had arrived as far as Lake Boga, on the Lower Murray River, within a day's journey of our destination. We had halted for the night close to a sheep-station established there. In the course of the evening the gentleman in charge of it—Macfarlane was his name—walk...
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Category： Author：novel
A large party were assembled in the drawing room of Greendale, Sir John Greendale's picturesque old mansion house. It was early in September. The men had returned from shooting, and the guests were gathered in the drawing room; in the pleasant half hour of dusk when the lamps have not yet been lighted, though it is already too da...
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Category： Author：novel
Dr. Needzak motioned the patient to a chair. Stallings sat down, slowly but limberly. He still held his hat, and placed it in the precise center of his lap. The receptionist handed a form to Dr. Needzak and returned to the waiting room, after looking once over her shoulder.
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Category： Author：novel
A limitless expanse of opal sea, calm and unruffled, reflecting the crimson and gold of the sky, as the sun went down behind pine woods and moors. A clear-cut line of cliffs, rising sheer from the stretch of golden sands.
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Category： Author：novel
About an hour out of San Francisco on the flight to Los Angeles, I made the discovery. I had finished reading the Chronicle, folded and put it beside me, turned and looked out the window, expecting to see the San Joaquin Valley but finding only a sea of clouds instead. So I returned my attention to the inside of the plane, to the...
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Category： Author：novel
I returned from the City about three o’clock on that May afternoon pretty well disgusted with life. I had been three months in the Old Country, and was fed up with it. If anyone had told me a year ago that I would have been feeling like that I should have laughed at him; but there was the fact. The weather made me liverish,...
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Category： Author：novel
In the morning, after breakfasting early, I took a turn up and down the main street of Sanderson, made observations and got information likely to serve me at some future day, and then I returned to the hotel ready for what might happen.
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Category： Author：novel
On the 15th of October, 19—, at four o’clock in the afternoon, in the garden of the Monte Pincio in Rome, sat a girl, no longer in the first flush of youth, Irene Mstinskaia. She held a book in her hand, having come to the park with the object of reading in the fresh air; but, as had always been the case since her arrival in Rome, she ...
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