A Window in Thrums
Category： Author：J. M. Barrie
The story of the "untrue son" - is one of several novels about the fictional village of Thrums.The Window in Thurms cottage sits at the junctions of Glamis Road and Forfar Road.
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Category： Author：J. M. Barrie
The story of the "untrue son" - is one of several novels about the fictional village of Thrums.The Window in Thurms cottage sits at the junctions of Glamis Road and Forfar Road.
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Category： Author：Lucy Maud Montgomery
Anne Shirley was curled up on the window-seat of Theodora Dix's sitting-room one Saturday evening looking dreamily afar at some fair starland beyond the hills of sunset. Anne was visiting for a fortnight of her vacation at Echo Lodge where Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Irving were spending the summer and she often ran over to the old Dix homes...
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Category： Author：Natalie Sumner Lincoln
THE long hot tropic day was drawing to its close. The shadows were gradually rising and filling the narrow street, and every now and then from the side of the open drain which ran through the middle of the street a large black carrion bird flew up. There was no sidewalk, the cobblestones running right up to the low white house walls. ...
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Category： Author：E. A. Gillie
Barbara entered the nursery with rather a worried look on her face. "Aunt Anne is coming to-morrow, children," she announced."To-morrow!" exclaimed a fair-haired boy, rising from the window-seat. "Oh, I say, Barbe, that's really rather hard lines—in the holidays, too."
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Category： Author：J. M. Barrie
One still Saturday afternoon some years ago a child pulled herself through a small window into a kitchen in the kirk-wynd of Thrums. She came from the old graveyard, whose only outlet, when the parish church gate is locked, is the windows of the wynd houses that hoop it round.
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Category： Author：Rafael Sabatini
Mr. Caryll, lately from Rome, stood by the window, looking out over the rainswept, steaming quays to Notre Dame on the island yonder.
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Category： Author：Joseph A. Altsheler
Mynheer Jacobus Huysman walked to the window and looked out at the neat red brick houses, the grass, now turning yellow, and the leaves, more brown than green. He was troubled, in truth his heart lay very heavy within him. He was thinking over the terrible news that had come so swiftly, as evil report has a way of doing. But he h...
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Category： Author：novel
I turned and looked across the room. The window had been widely opened when I entered, and a faint fog haze hung in the apartment, seeming to veil the light of the shaded lamp. I watched the closed door intently, expecting every moment to see the knob turn. But nothing happened.
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Category： Author：novel
The brick smashed through the window and skittered across the top of Glen Wheatley's desk. He had already removed most of the breakables, but it caught a large plastic ash tray and sent it caroming off his cheekbone. A thin trickle of blood crept down his face.
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Category： Author：novel
I was standing at the window of Poirot’s rooms looking out idly on the street below.
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