To the bitter end, by the author of 'Lady Audley's secret'. |
From inside the book
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Page 6
... Night after night he dreamed of being away yonder , knee - deep in the rough clay , turning up spadefuls of yellow gold under a broad white moon . Morning after morning he stared at the painted walls of his bed - chamber , bright in the ...
... Night after night he dreamed of being away yonder , knee - deep in the rough clay , turning up spadefuls of yellow gold under a broad white moon . Morning after morning he stared at the painted walls of his bed - chamber , bright in the ...
Page 12
... Night after night she cried herself to sleep in her pretty room under the old red- tiled roof ; morning after morning she woke to a sense of desolation and misery . But she was hardly eighteen years of age . Little by little hope ...
... Night after night she cried herself to sleep in her pretty room under the old red- tiled roof ; morning after morning she woke to a sense of desolation and misery . But she was hardly eighteen years of age . Little by little hope ...
Page 15
... night at this period of her life ; the time came - ah , too soon - when they went with another . Her dreams showed him to her toiling under that distant sky ; her prayers were breathed for him . Could she stand by and hear him under ...
... night at this period of her life ; the time came - ah , too soon - when they went with another . Her dreams showed him to her toiling under that distant sky ; her prayers were breathed for him . Could she stand by and hear him under ...
Page 24
... nights , they were certain of a good crop . ' ' There's not much chance of rain ; my barometer hasn't been below thirty this fortnight . We haven't had as good a crop at Clevedon for the last ten years as we've got now . ' ' And that'll ...
... nights , they were certain of a good crop . ' ' There's not much chance of rain ; my barometer hasn't been below thirty this fortnight . We haven't had as good a crop at Clevedon for the last ten years as we've got now . ' ' And that'll ...
Page 27
... night Sir Lucas gave a feet - shampeter . The Prince and Sir Lucas , and two or three more , used to sit up playing cards and drinking curaçoa till four or five in the morning- hours after the county visitors had gone home . It was a ...
... night Sir Lucas gave a feet - shampeter . The Prince and Sir Lucas , and two or three more , used to sit up playing cards and drinking curaçoa till four or five in the morning- hours after the county visitors had gone home . It was a ...
Common terms and phrases
Acropolis-square afternoon answered asked Augusta Vallory aunt Hannah beauty Brierwood bright Cardimum carpet-bag cedar church comfortable cried daresay darling daugh daughter Dead-Sea Fruit delight dinner drawing-room dress Eastbourne Eleanor's Victory everything eyes face fancy farmer farmer's daughter father Fenton's Quest flowers fond fortune garden gentleman girl girl's Grace Redmayne half hand happy Harcross and Vallory hard heart hour Hubert Walgrave James Redmayne John Wort kind Kingsbury lady LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET letter live locket lodger London looked lover marry mind Miss Redmayne Miss Vallory morning never niece night pale parlour piano pleasant portmanteau pretty Redmayne's Richard Redmayne roses round seemed Sir Francis Sir Lucas smile steward summer suppose sweet talking there's thing thought told Tunbridge uncle James Vallory's voice Walgrave's Walgry walk week Weston Vallory wife window woman wonder Wort young
Popular passages
Page 242 - Romeo: and when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.
Page 127 - Here, my dear friend," he suddenly exclaimed, as he pulled a couple of little parcels out of his pocket, "is a quarter of a pound of tea and half a pound of sugar, for, though it is not in my power at present to return you the two guineas, you nor any man else shall ever have it to say that I want gratitude.
Page 140 - As one dead in the bottom of a tomb : Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale. Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye so do you : Dry sorrow drinks our blood. — Adieu ! Juliet farewell !— My life !— Jul.