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The Letter of the Contract By: Basil King (1859-1928) |
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THE LETTER OF THE CONTRACT BY
BASIL KING AUTHOR OF
The Inner Shrine ILLUSTRATED HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
MCMXIV BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE INNER SHRINE" BASIL KING THE LETTER OF THE CONTRACT. Ill'd
THE WAY HOME. Illustrated
THE WILD OLIVE. Illustrated
THE INNER SHRINE. Illustrated
THE STREET CALLED STRAIGHT. Ill'd
LET NOT MAN PUT ASUNDER. Post 8vo
IN THE GARDEN OF CHARITY. Post 8vo
THE STEPS OF HONOR. Post 8vo
THE GIANT'S STRENGTH. Post 8vo HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1914. BY HARPER & BROTHERS
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA PUBLISHED AUGUST, 1914 CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE I. TRANSGRESSION 1
II. RESENTMENT 41
III. REPROACH 83
IV. DANGER 134
V. PENALTY 160 ILLUSTRATIONS "Can't You See that My Heart's Breaking, Too?" She Looked Him in the
Face, Shaking Her Head, Sadly. "No, I Can't See That" Frontispiece He Turned from the Girl to His Wife. "I'm Willing to Explain
Anything You Like as Far as I Can" Page 26 "Oh, Chip, Go Away! I Can't Stand Any More Now." "Do You Mean
that You'll See Me Later when We're in London?" " 155 Edith was Standing in the Doorway, the Man Behind Her. "Chip,
Mr. Lacon Knows We Met in England" " 192
THE LETTER OF THE CONTRACT I TRANSGRESSION
It was strange to think that if, on finishing her coffee in her room,
she had looked in on the children, as she generally did, instead of
going down to the drawing room to write a note, her whole life might
have been different. "Why didn't I?" was the question she often asked
herself in the succeeding years, only to follow it with the reflection:
"But perhaps it would have happened in any case. Since the fact was
there, I must have come to know it in the long run." The note was an unimportant one. She could have sent it by a servant at
any minute of the day. The very needlessness of writing it at once, so
that her husband could post it as he went to his office, gave to the act
something of the force of fate. Everything that morning, when she came to think of it, had something of
the force of fate. Why, on entering the drawing room, hadn't she gone
straight to her desk, according to her intention, if it wasn't that fate
intervened? As a matter of fact, she went to the oriel window looking
down into Fifth Avenue, with vague thoughts of the weather. It was one
of those small Scotch corner windows that show you both sides of the
street at once. It was so much the favorite conning spot of the family
that she advanced to it from habit. And yet, if she had gone to her desk, that girl might have disappeared
before the lines of the note were penned. As it was, the girl was there,
standing as she had stood on other occasions three or four, at
least between the two little iron posts that spaced off the opening for
foot passengers into the Park. She was looking up at the house in the
way Edith had noticed before not with the scrutiny of one who wishes to
see, but with the forlorn patience of the unobtrusive creature hoping to
be seen. In a neat gray suit of the fashion of 1904 and squirrel furs she was the
more unobtrusive because of a background of light snow. She was
pathetically unobtrusive... Continue reading book >>
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Fiction |
Literature |
Romance |
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