Genre Romance. Page - 6

ld, therefore, have you order it so, that he may think I am but just gone out, if he should happen by any Accident to call when I am not here; for I would not, for the World, have him imagine I do not constantly lodge here. The Landlady assur'd her she would do every Thing as she desired, and gave her to understand she wanted not the Gift of Secrecy.EVERY Thing being ordered at this Home for the Security of her Reputation, she repaired to the other, where she easily excused to an unsuspecting

an with the accuracy of a sculptor's eye. "There is onepoint, however, or, rather, two points, in respect to which our friendDonatello's abundant curls will not permit us to say whether the likenessis carried into minute detail."And the sculptor directed the attention of the party to the ears of thebeautiful statue which they were contemplating. But we must do more than merely refer to this exquisite work of art; itmust be described, however inadequate may be the effort to express

o dispose of the miserable horse that hasbrought me hither, and am preparing to continue the journey on foot."Although he seemed to recite this story tranquilly enough, Iobserved the tears start to his eyes as he concluded. Thisadventure struck me as being not less singular than it wasaffecting. "I do not press you," said I to him, to make me theconfidant of your secrets; but if I can be of use to you in anyway, I gladly tender you my services." "Alas!" replied

nter's chill had not yet gone out of the air. But then, Willard had earned his ducking.The girl cleared her throat. "We have had an accident," she informed the rider, her voice a little husky. At this word he swept his hat from his head and bowed to her. "Why, I reckon you have, ma'am," he said. "Didn't you have no driver?" "Why, yes," returned the girl hesitatingly, for she thought she detected sarcasm in his voice, and she had to look twice at him to

but between whiles managed to do fairly well in the Tripos, to finish a new and original translation of Quintilian, another of Petronius Arbiter and also a literal rendering into the English of the Memoirs of the Sieur de Brantome.""For none of which you have hitherto found a publisher?" inquired Mr. Grainger. "Not as yet," said I, "but I have great hopes of my Brantome, as you are probably aware this is the first time he has ever been translated into the

eacon heartily.Bobby wavered toward the door, emerged on the porch, and ran almost uponDi returning from her tea-party at Jenny Plow's. "Oh, Bobby! You came to see me?" She was as fluffy, as curly, as smiling as her picture. She was carryingpink, gauzy favours and a spear of flowers. Undeniably in her voicethere was pleasure. Her glance was startled but already complacent. Shepaused on the steps, a lovely figure. But one would say that nothing but the truth dwelt in Bobby. "Oh,

ere Tom Wolfe to have written it as a non-fiction title. That it was inspired by actual characters and events, and turned by Wolfe's expert hands into a compelling modern-day tale of murder and mortality, were enough to convince me that I could pull off the same sort of magic with my own "what if" scenario, swapping Silicon Valley for New York, and the personal computer business for bond trading.That this was my first attempt at writing a novel goes a long way toward explaining the

tch--against thot wagon and horses yours, and thee harness--thee whole damned shutting-match--thot I haf win!" He proceeded to finish his cigarette.Felipe stared at him hard. Surely his ears had deceived him! If they had not deceived him, if, for a fact, the hombre had expressed a willingness to bet all he had on the outcome of this thing, then Franke, fellow-townsman, compadre, brother-wood-hauler, was crazy! But he determined to find out. "What you said, Franke?" he asked,