短篇小说 | Cupid's Exile Number Two
The United States of America, after looking over its stock of consular timber, selected Mr. John De Graffenreid Atwood, of Dalesburg, Alabama, for a successor to Willard Geddie, resigned.
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短篇小说 | Odalie Misses Mass
Odalie walked straight up to the old woman and kissed her on the cheek.
短篇小说 | The Power of Words
OINOS. Pardon, Agathos, the weakness of a spirit new-fledged with immortality!
短篇小说 | Cupid A La Carte
"The dispositions of woman," said Jeff Peters, after various opinions on the subject had been advanced, "run, regular, to diversions.
短篇小说 | Nég Créol
AT the remote period of his birth he had been named César François Xavier, but no one ever thought of calling him anything but Chicot, or Nég, or Maringouin.
短篇小说 | The Oval Portrait
The chateau into which my valet had ventured to make forcible entrance, rather than permit me, in my desperately wounded condition, to pass a night in the open air, was one of those piles of commingled gloom and grandeur which have so long frowned among the Appennines, not less in fact than in the fancy of Mrs. Radcliffe.
短篇小说 | Conscience in Art
"I never could hold my partner, Andy Tucker, down to legitimate ethics of pure swindling," said Jeff Peters to me one day.
短篇小说 | Miss McEnders
When Miss Georgie McEnders had finished an elaborately simple toilet of gray and black, she divested herself completely of rings, bangles, brooches – everything to suggest that she stood in friendly relations with fortune.
短篇小说 | The Oblong Box
Some years ago, I engaged passage from Charleston, S. C, to the city of New York, in the fine packet-ship "Independence," Captain Hardy. We were to sail on the fifteenth of the month (June), weather permitting; and on the fourteenth, I went on board to arrange some matters in my stateroom.
短篇小说 | Confessions Of A Humorist
There was a painless stage of incubation that lasted twenty-five years, and then it broke out on me, and people said I was It.
短篇小说 | Mamouche
Marshall grumbled audibly, and Doctor John-Luis continued to inspect the boy through his glasses.
短篇小说 | The Mystery of Marie Roget
The extraordinary details which I am now called upon to make public, will be found to form, as regards sequence of time, the primary branch of a series of scarcely intelligible coincidences, whose secondary or concluding branch will be recognized by all readers in the late murder of Mary Cecila Rogers, at New York.
