短篇小说 | Transients in Arcadia
There is a hotel on Broadway that has escaped discovery by the summer-resort promoters.
There is a hotel on Broadway that has escaped discovery by the summer-resort promoters.
"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed!--tear up the planks!--here, here!--it is the beating of his hideous heart!"
"All the same, we are very fond of women, we Frenchmen!"
It was Christmas Eve, and the family circle of Luke Steffink, Esq., was aglow with the amiability and random mirth which the occasion demanded.
Unless one is wealthy there is no use in being a charming fellow. Romance is the privilege of the rich, not the profession of the unemployed.
Kenelm Jerton entered the dining-hall of the Golden Galleon Hotel in the full crush of the luncheon hour.
At midnight the cafe was crowded. By some chance the little table at which I sat had escaped the eye of incomers, and two vacant chairs at it extended their arms with venal hospitality to the influx of patrons.
Night had fallen on that great and beautiful city known as Bagdad-on-the-Subway. And with the night came the enchanted glamour that belongs not to Arabia alone.
"What can I do for you?" he asked a lady in an antediluvian mantle, whose back view was extremely suggestive of a huge dung-beetle.
In some natures there are no half-tones; nothing but raw primary colours. John Bodman was a man who was always at one extreme or the other.
"Good-bye, Yegor Vlassitch," whispered Pelagea, and she stood on tiptoe to see the white cap once more.
The drawing-room was small, full of heavy draperies and discreetly fragrant.
Copyright © 2021 | Sitemap | 鄂ICP备2020020141号-1