短篇小说 | Mrs. Manstey's View
The view from Mrs. Manstey's window was not a striking one, but to her at least it was full of interest and beauty.
The view from Mrs. Manstey's window was not a striking one, but to her at least it was full of interest and beauty.
"You ought to buy it," said my host; "it's just the place for a solitary-minded devil like you. And it would be rather worth while to own the most romantic house in Brittany.
IN the good days, just after we all left college, Ned Halidon and I used to listen, laughing and smoking, while Paul Ambrose set forth his plans.
"I CAN never," said Mrs. Fetherel, "hear the bell ring without a shudder."
Toward the end of the year 1920 the Government of the United States had practically completed the programme, adopted during the last months of President Winthrop's administration.
The news of Mrs. Grancy's death came to me with the shock of an immense blunder--one of fate's most irretrievable acts of vandalism.
When I was a young man I thought a great deal of local color. At that time it was still a pigment of recent discovery, and supposed to have a peculiarly stimulating effect on the mental eye.
The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents.
"You're _so_ artistic," my cousin Eleanor Copt began.
The Red Un was very red; even his freckles were red rather than copper-coloured. And he was more prodigal than most kings, for he had two crowns on his head.
Mrs. Ambrose Dale--forty, slender, still young--sits in her drawing-room at the tea-table. The winter twilight is falling, a lamp has been lit, there is a fire on the hearth, and the room is pleasantly dim and flower-scented.
There once lived in a town of Persia two brothers, one named Cassim and the other Ali Baba. Their father divided a small inheritance equally between them.
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