Twentieth Century Novelists : Arthur's Classic Novels

Twentieth Century Novelists

Free eBooks! No Registration!

Santa Claus's Partner by Thomas Nelson Page
Berryman Livingstone was a successful man, a very successful man, and as he sat in his cushioned chair in his inner private office (in the best office-building in the city) on a particularly snowy evening

Gordon Keith by Thomas Nelson Page
This idea was what the son inherited from the father along with some other old-fashioned things which he did not know the value of at first, but which he came to understand as he grew older.

Social life in old Virginia before the war by Thomas Nelson Page
A number of magnificent oaks and hickories (there had originally been a dozen of the former, and the place from them took its name, "Oakland"), under which Totapottamoi children may have played

No Haid Pawn by Thomas Nelson Page
It was a ghostly place in broad daylight, if the glimmer that stole in through the dense forest that surrounded it when the sun was directly overhead deserved this delusive name.

In ole Virginia by Thomas Nelson Page
Their once splendid mansions, now fast falling to decay, appeared to view from time to time, set back far from the road, in proud seclusion, among groves of oak and hickory, now scarlet and gold with the early frost.

Gordon Keith by Thomas Nelson Page
A stranger passing through the country prior to the war would have heard much of Elphinstone, the Keith plantation, but he would have seen from the main road (which, except in summer, was intolerably bad) only long stretches of rolling fields well tilled

The Burial Of The Guns by Thomas Nelson Page
Two weeks previously it had been detailed with a light division sent to meet and repel a force which it was understood was coming in by way of the southwest valley to strike Lee in the rear of his long line from Richmond to Petersburg.

The Far Horizon by by Lucas Malet
Who Trimmer was, how he came by a Green, and why, or what he trimmed on it, it is idle at this time of day to attempt to determine. Whether, animated by a desire for the public welfare, he bequeathed it in high charitable sort;

The Carissima by by Lucas Malet
And all this reminds me of a man whom I once knew called Leversedge -- Constantine Leversedge. For although he told, consciously at all events, no lies, he was intimately involved in the telling of one of a really superior order.

Deadham Hard by by Lucas Malet
he purchased the house at Deadham Hard, known as Tandy's Castle, overlooking the deep and comparatively narrow channel by which the Rivers Arne and Wilner, after crossing the tide-flats and salt-marsh of Marychurch Haven

The History of Sir Richard Calmady by by Lucas Malet
And this he did in no vainglorious spirit, with purpose of exalting himself above the county gentlemen, his neighbours, and showing how far better lined his pockets were than theirs.

A Writer's Recollections (Vol I) by Mrs. Humphry Ward
So as the years draw on toward the Biblical limit, the inclination to look back, and to tell some sort of story of what one has seen, grows upon most of us. I cannot hope that what I have to say will be very interesting to many.

A Writer's Recollections (Vol II) by Mrs. Humphry Ward
The cry of the poor, indeed, against the rich and tyrannous, the cry of the persecuted Liberal, whether in politics or religion, against his oppressors

The Coryston Family by Mrs. Humphry Ward
Since the Opposition leader had risen, her attention had wholly wandered. She yawned perpetually, and talked a great deal to a lady behind her.

The Marriage of William Ashe by Mrs. Humphry Ward
London, from this point of sight, wore a cheerful, friendly air. The dim sunshine, the white-clouded sky, the touches of reviving green and flowers, the soft air blowing in from a farther window which was open

Fields of Victory by Mrs. Humphry Ward
It is a bold thing, I fear, to offer the public yet more letters based on a journey through the battle-fields of France—especially at a moment when impressions are changing so fast

Lady Merton Colonist by Mrs. Humphry Ward
"As I've explained to you many times before, this is the Hinterland of Ontario--and it's only been surveyed, except just along the railway, a few years ago

Lady Rose's Daughter by Mrs. Humphry Ward
And before that, I remember his mother, the old Duchess here, with her swarm of parsons. Upon my word, London tastes good--after Teheran!"

Elizabeth's Campaign by Mrs. Humphry Ward
'Yet compared to a Mannering, what do I mean to the people here? You scarcely begin to take root in this blessed country under half a century.

Lady Connie by Mrs. Humphry Ward
a light wind blew towards the two girls sitting by the open window. One, the elder, had a face like a Watteau sketch, with black velvety eyes

The Testing of Diana Mallory by Mrs. Humphry Ward
Venus shone enthroned, so large and brilliant, so near to earth and the spectator, that she held, she pervaded the whole dusky scene, the shadowed fields and wintry woods,

Milly and Olly by Mrs. Humphry Ward
But Master Olly went on stamping, and jumping up and down stairs, as his way was when he was very much excited, till Milly appeared. Presently down she came, a sober fair-haired little maiden, with blue eyes and a turn-up nose, and a mouth that was generally rather solemn-looking

Harvest by Mrs. Humphry Ward
Halsey was silent, and the two old men trudged on with cheerful countenances. Through the minds of both there ran pleasant thoughts of the contrast between the days before the war and the days now prevailing.

Marcella by Mrs. Humphry Ward
It was but three months or so since Marcella's father, Mr. Richard Boyce, had succeeded to the ownership of Mellor Park the old home of the Boyces, and it was little more than six weeks since Marcella had received her summons home from the students' boarding-house in Kensington

Miss Bretherton by Mrs. Humphry Ward
It was the day of the private view at the Royal Academy. The great courtyard of Burlington House was full of carriages, and a continuous stream of guests was pressing up the red-carpeted stairs

A Great Success by Mrs. Humphry Ward
And she ran to the open window, crying "Hi!" to the driver of a taxi-cab, who, having put down his fares, was just on the point of starting from the door of the small semi-detached house in a South Kensington street

Helena by Mrs. Humphry Ward
"Why should we be snuffed out without a struggle?" said the circular. "We are fewer, no doubt, but we are better educated. Our home traditions are infinitely superior.

Missing by Mrs. Humphry Ward
And the maid-servant, as she went downstairs, decided for the twentieth time that afternoon, that she didn't like Miss Cookson, and she hoped her sister, Mrs. Sarratt, would be nicer. Miss Cookson had been poking her nose into everything that afternoon, fiddling with the rooms and furniture

Fenwick's Career by Mrs. Humphry Ward
The young man in question stood embarrassed and silent, his palette on his thumb, brush and mahlstick suspended. His eyes were cast down: a flush had risen in his cheek. Miss Bella's manner was not sweet; she wished evidently to slight somebody

The Story of Bessie Costrell by Mrs. Humphry Ward
Once he stopped to bend over a fence, to pluck a stalk or two of oats; he examined them carefully, then he threw back his head and sniffed the air, looking all round the sky meanwhile.

Towards The Goal by Mrs. Humphry Ward
I left our Headquarters in France, for instance, some days before the news of the Russian revolution reached London, and while the Somme retirement was still in its earlier stages.

The History of David Grieve by Mrs. Humphry Ward
The children went their way through the yard. In front of them a flock of some forty sheep and lambs pushed along, guarded by two black short-haired collies. The boy, brandishing a long stick, opened a gate deplorably in want of mending

Sir George Tressady (Vol I) by Mrs. Humphry Ward
The young man speaking drew in his head from the carriage-window. But instead of sitting down he turned with a joyous, excited gesture and lifted the flap over the little window in the back of the landau, supporting himself, as he stooped to look

Sir George Tressady (Vol II) by Mrs. Humphry Ward
On a hot morning at the end of June, some four weeks after the Castle Luton visit, George Tressady walked from Brook Street to Warwick Square, that he might obtain his mother's signature to a document

The Case of Richard Meynell by Mrs. Humphry Ward
The postman, just guiding his bicycle into the Rectory drive, turned at the summons and dismounted. The Rector approached him from the road, and the postman, diving into his letter-bag and into the box of his bicycle, brought out a variety of letters and packages, which he placed in the Rector's hands.

Robert Elsmere by Mrs. Humphry Ward
It was a brilliant afternoon toward the end of May. The spring had been unusually cold and late, and it was evident from the general aspect of the lonely Westmoreland valley of Long Whindale that warmth and sunshine had only just penetrated to its bare, green recesses

Helbeck of Bannisdale (Vol I) by Mrs. Humphry Ward
Before him stretched the marsh lands of the Flent valley, a broad alluvial plain brought down by the rivers Flent and Greet on their way to the estuary and the sea.

Helbeck of Bannisdale (Vol II) by Mrs. Humphry Ward
The space between the ingots and some machinery near them was perilously narrow. At any moment, those rushing past might have been pushed against the death-bearing truck.

Delia Blanchflower by Mrs. Humphry Ward
The Englishman's quick smile in response modified the German's general opinion of English manners, and the two exchanged some remarks on the weather

A Mountain Europa by John Fox, Jr.
As Clayton rose to his feet in the still air, the tree-tops began to tremble in the gap below him, and a rippling ran through the leaves up the mountain-side.

Hell Fer Sartain and Other Stories by John Fox, Jr.
Thar was a dancin'-party Christmas night on "Hell fer Sartain." Jes tu'n up the fust crick beyond the bend thar, an' climb onto a stump

The Heart Of The Hills by John Fox, Jr.
Twin spirals of blue smoke rose on either side of the spur, crept tendril-like up two dark ravines, and clearing the feathery green crests of the trees, drifted lazily on upward

The Trail Of The Lonesome Pine by John Fox, Jr.
She sat at the base of the big tree -- her little sunbonnet pushed back, her arms locked about her knees, her bare feet gathered under her crimson gown and her deep eyes fixed on the smoke in the valley below.

The Little Shepherd of Kingdom Come by John Fox, Jr.
there would come a miracle of blue sky, white cloud, and yellow light, but always between dark and dark the rain would fall and the mist creep up the mountains and steam from the tops -- only to roll together from either range, drip back into the valleys, and lift, straightway, as mist again.

The Last Stetson by John Fox, Jr.
Always the miller had been a man of peace; and there was one time when he thought the old Stetson-Lewallen feud was done. That was when Rome Stetson, the last but one of his name, and Jasper Lewallen, the last but one of his, put their guns down and fought with bare fists

A Cumberland Vendetta by John Fox, Jr.
Parting the bushes toward the dim light, they stood on a massive shoulder of the mountain, the river girding it far below, and the afternoon shadows at their feet. Both carried guns-the tall mountaineer

The One Woman by Thomas Dixon
When he reached the seat, the woman had recovered by a supreme effort of will and sat erect, her face flushed with anger at her own weakness.

The Leopard's Spots by Thomas Dixon
Suddenly the measured tread of a brigade was heard marching into action, every movement quick with the perfect discipline, the fire, and the passion of the first days of the triumphant Confederacy.

The Foolish Virgin by Thomas Dixon
The younger woman was silent a moment, and a flush of anger slowly mounted her temples. The blue eyes were fixed reproachfully on her friend.

The Clansman by Thomas Dixon, Jr.

“Extra! Extra! Peace! Victory!”

Windows were suddenly raised, women thrust their heads out, and others rushed into the street and crowded around the boy, struggling to get his papers. He threw them right and left and snatched the money— no one asked for change. Without ceasing rose his cry:

“Extra! Peace! Victory! Lee has surrendered!”

Old Gorgon Graham by George Horace Lorimer
When a man makes a specialty of knowing how some other fellow ought to spend his money, he usually thinks in millions and works for hundreds.

A Hoosier Chronicle by Meredith Nicholson
The wise know that foolish legislation is a rope of sand which perishes in the twisting; that the State must follow and not lead the character and progress of the citizen;

A Reversible Santa by Meredith Nicholson
The Hopper was blowing from two hours' hard travel over rough country. He had stumbled through woodlands, flattened himself in fence corners to avoid the eyes of curious motorists speeding homeward or flying about distributing Christmas gifts

The House of a Thousand Candles by Meredith Nicholson
I reached across the table for the paper, and he gave the sealed and beribboned copy of John Marshall Glenarm's will into my hands. I read it through for myself

The Port of Missing Men by Meredith Nicholson
Before us, down the golden road, floats dust from charging steeds, Where two adventurous companies clash loud in mighty deeds; And from the tower that stands alert like some tall, beckoning pine, E'en now, my heart, I see afar the lights of welcome shine!

The Little Brown Jug at Kildare by Meredith Nicholson
"Perfectly bully! I've thought of it a lot, but I want to be sure I've cleaned up everything else first. It's always up there waiting -- on ice, so to speak -- but when it's done once there will be nothing left. I want to save that for the last call."

The Iron Woman by Margaret Deland
Her foreboding was tempered by a giggle and by the deepening dimple in her cheek, but all the same she sighed with a sort of impersonal regret at the prospect of any unpleasantness.

The Awakening of Helena Richie by Margaret Deland
Dr. Lavendar and Goliath had toiled up the hill to call on old Mr. Benjamin Wright; when they jogged back in the late afternoon it was with the peculiar complacency which follows the doing of a disagreeable duty.

The Way to Peace by Margaret Deland
Athalia Hall looked like a girl, but she was thirty-four. Part of the girlishness lay in the smoothness of her white forehead and in the sincere intensity of her gaze.

Many Waters by Margaret Deland
The lawyer rose briskly and reached for his hat. "What we want now is to get the case up near the head of the list as soon as we can. Get it over! Get it over!

The Voice by Margaret Deland
My boy, about the time you were born, there was a man in London--some folks called him a saint, and some folks called him a fool; it's a way folks have had ever since our Lord came into this world.

The Powers and Maxine by C.N. and A.M. Williamson
My heart beat very fast as I guided him into the room which Lady Mountstuart has given Di and me for our special den. It is separated by another larger room from the ballroom;

The Port Of Adventure by C.N. and A.M. Williamson
She was always handsome, but she was beautiful as she came out into the sunset gold which seemed meant for her, as stage lights are turned on for the heroine of a play

My Friend the Chaffeur by C.N. and A.M. Williamson
I had been trying to do him one without his knowing it, and in such a way that he couldn't escape when he did know. But the success of my scheme was now being dandled on the knees of the gods, and at any instant it might fall off to break like an egg.

The Guests of Hercules by C.N. and A.M. Williamson
A tall girl in the habit of a novice walked the path alone, moving slowly across the stripes of sunlight and shadow which inlaid the gravel with equal bars of black and reddish gold.

The Heather-moon by C.N. and A.M. Williamson
For the first time in her life, Barrie saw the door that led to the garret stairs standing ajar. It was always, always locked, as is correct, though irritating, for a door that leads to Fairyland.

Secret History Revealed By Lady Peggy O'malley by C.N. and A.M. Williamson
It's strange how the biggest things of life grow out of the tiniest ones. There is the old simile of the acorn and the oak, for instance. But oaks take a long time to grow, and everybody concerned in oak culture is calmly expecting them to do it. Imagine an acorn exploding to let out an oak huge enough to shadow the world!

The Golden Silence by C.N. Williamson
Knight was of the world that is inclined to regard servants as automata; but he was absurdly self-conscious as he saw his card on a silver tray, in the hand of an expressionless, liveried youth who probably had the famous interview in his pocket.

Rosemary: A Christmas Story by C.N. and A.M. Williamson

Winnie Childs by C.N. and A.M. Williamson
It was a horrible day at sea, horrible even on board the new and splendid Monarchic. All the prettiest people had disappeared from the huge dining-saloon.

It Happened in Egypt by A.M. Williamson
I paced up and down, acutely conscious of my great secret, the secret inspiring my voyage to Egypt.

The Princess Passes by C.N. and A.M. Williamson
The girl's reputation as a beauty had marched before her, blowing trumpets. She was the prettiest girl in Davos, as she had been the prettiest in London;

Red Masquerade by Louis Joseph Vance
The gentleman was not in the least bored who might have been and was seen on that wintry afternoon in Nineteen hundred, lounging with one shoulder to a wall of the dingy salesroom and idly thumbing a catalogue of effects about to be put up at auction;

The Day of Days by Louis Joseph Vance

Alias The Lone Wolf by Louis Joseph Vance
For the Englishman, rousing from his appropriated ease, dropped his book to the floor beside the chair, uprose and extended a cordial hand, exclaiming: "H'are ye, Monsieur Duchemin?"

The Lone Wolf by Louis Joseph Vance
It must have been Bourke who first said that even if you knew your way about Paris you had to lose it in order to find it to Troyon's. But then Bourke was proud to be Irish.

The Fortune Hunter by Louis Joseph Vance
he had a distasteful duty to perform; but that was the last thing he designed to become evident. Like most good business men he nursed a pet superstition or two

The False Faces by Louis Joseph Vance
On the muddy verge of a shallow little pool the man lay prone and still, as still as those poor dead whose broken bodies rested all about him, where they had fallen, months or days, hours or weeks ago

The Bronze Bell by Louis Joseph Vance
By degrees the platform cleared, the erstwhile patrons of the road and the station loafers -- for the most part hall-marked natives of the region -- straggling off upon their several ways

The Brass Bowl by Louis Joseph Vance
Beneath his mask, and by this I do not mean his goggles, but the mask of modern manner which the worldly wear, he was, and is, different.

The Black Bag by Louis Joseph Vance
"Show him up, please," he said. But before the words were fairly out of his mouth a footfall sounded in the corridor, a hand was placed upon the shoulder of the page, gently but with decision swinging him out of the way, and a man stepped into the room.

The Voice Of The People by Ellen Anderson Gholson Glasgow
The jury had vanished from the semicircle of straight-backed chairs in the old court-house, the clerk had laid aside his pen along with his air of listless attention

The Wheel of Life by Ellen Anderson Gholson Glasgow
Though it was twenty years since she had first seen Laura Wilde as a child of ten, the meeting came to her suddenly with all the bright clearness of an incident of yesterday.

The Past by Ellen Anderson Gholson Glasgow
I had no sooner entered the house than I knew something was wrong. Though I had never been in so splendid a place before -- it was one of those big houses just off Fifth Avenue

Life and Gabriella by Ellen Anderson Gholson Glasgow
"But it isn't my fault, Uncle Meriweather!" cried Jane, in desperation at his obtuseness. "I've tried to be the best wife I could

The Deliverance; A Romance of the Virginia by Ellen Anderson Gholson Glasgow
When the Susquehanna stage came to the daily halt beneath the blasted pine at the cross-roads, an elderly man, wearing a flapping frock coat and a soft slouch hat, stepped gingerly over one of the muddy wheels

Virginia by Ellen Anderson Gholson Glasgow
Miss Priscilla Batte, having learned by heart the lesson in physical geography she would teach her senior class on the morrow, stood feeding her canary on the little square porch of the Dinwiddie Academy for Young Ladies.

The Battle Ground by Ellen Anderson Gholson Glasgow
The little girl sat down in the tall grass by the roadside and shook her red curls from her eyes. She gave a breathless gasp and began fanning herself with the flap of her white sunbonnet.

How Love Came To Professor Guildea by Robert Hichens
Yet his days were spent in scientific investigations which conferred immense benefits upon the world.

The Woman With The Fan by Robert Hichens
The sound of the voice came from an inner room, towards which most of these people were looking earnestly. Only one or two seemed indifferent to the fascination of the singer.

The Prophet of Berkeley Square by Robert Hichens
The great telescope of the Prophet was carefully adjusted upon its lofty, brass-bound stand in the bow window of Number One Thousand Berkeley Square.

A Spirit In Prison by Robert Hichens
Somewhere, not far off on the still sea that held the tiny islet in a warm embrace, a boy's voice was singing "Napoli Bella."

The Spell of Egypt by Robert Hichens
Why do you come to Egypt? Do you come to gain a dream, or to regain lost dreams of old; to gild your life with the drowsy gold of romance, to lose a creeping sorrow, to forget that too many of your hours are sullen, grey, bereft? What do you wish of Egypt?

In the Wilderness by Robert Hichens
During the years of his not unpleasant servitude Amedeo had become a student of human nature. He had learnt to judge shrewdly and soundly, to sum up quickly, to deliver verdicts which were not unjust.

The Master of The Inn by Robert Hichens
The village scattered along the road below the inn was called Albany -- and soon forgotten when the railroad sought an opening through a valley less rugged, eight miles to the west.

The Green Carnation by Robert Hichens
It is so interesting to be wonderful, to be young, with pale gilt hair and blue eyes, and a face in which the shadows of fleeting expressions come and go, and a mouth like the mouth of Narcissus.

December Love by Robert Hichens
Alick Craven, who was something in the Foreign Office, had been living in London, except for an interval of military service during the war, for several years, and had plenty of interesting friends and acquaintances

The Memoirs of an American Citizen by Robert Hichens
There was just a strip of waste land, in those days, between the great avenue and the railroad tracks that skirted the lake.

The Garden Of Allah by Robert Hichens
The fatigue caused by a rough sea journey, and, perhaps, the consciousness that she would have to be dressed before dawn to catch the train for Beni-Mora, prevented Domini Enfilden from sleeping.

Flames by Robert Hichens
Valentine had never decided to join any regiment. The trumpets of vice rang in his ears in vain, mingled with the more classical music of his life as the retreat from the barracks of Seville mingled with the click of Carmen's castanets.

The Dweller on the Threshold by Robert Hichens
He had been translated from his labors in Liverpool to a West End church in London. There he had proved hitherto an astonishing success.

The Lady of the Decoration by Frances Little
Behold a soldier on the eve of battle! I am writing this in a stuffy little hotel room and I don't dare stop whistling for a minute. You could cover my courage with a postage stamp. In the morning I sail for the Flowery Kingdom

Little Sister Snow by Frances Little
A quaint old Japanese garden lay smiling under the sunshine of a morning in early spring. The sun, having flooded the outside world with dazzling light

The Lady and Sada San by Frances Little
You once told me, before you went to Italy, that after having been my intimate relative all these years, you had drawn a red line through the word surprise.

The Tides Of Barnegat by F. Hopkinson Smith
To the left of where she stood curved the coast, glistening like a scimitar, and the strip of yellow beach which divided the narrow bay from the open sea; to the right, thrust out into the sheen of silver

The Veiled Lady And Other Men And Women by F. Hopkinson Smith
Joe Hornstog told me this story--the first part of it; the last part of it came to me in a way which proves how small the world is.

The Fortunes of Oliver Horn by F. Hopkinson Smith
Along the shaded walks laughing boys and girls romped all day, with hoop and ball, attended by old black mammies in white aprons and gayly colored bandannas; while in the more secluded corners, sheltered by protecting shrubs, happy lovers sat and talked, tired wayfarers rested with hats off

Peter: A Novel of Which He is Not the Hero by F. Hopkinson Smith
his bald head glistening like a huge ostrich egg under the flare of the overhead gas jets, when Patrick, the night watchman, catching sight of my face peering through the outer grating, opened the door of the Bank.

Kennedy Square by F. Hopkinson Smith
On the precise day on which this story opens--some sixty or more years ago, to be exact--a bullet-headed, merry-eyed, mahogany-colored young darky stood on the top step of an old-fashioned, high-stoop house

Tom Grogan by F. Hopkinson Smith
Something worried Babcock. One could see that from the impatient gesture with which he turned away from the ferry window on learning he had half an hour to wait.

Felix O'Day by F. Hopkinson Smith
Broadway on dry nights, or rather that part known as the Great White Way, is a crowded thoroughfare, dominated by lofty buildings, the sky-line studded with constellations of colored signs pencilled in fire. Broadway on wet, rain-drenched nights is the fairy concourse of the Wonder City of the World, its asphalt splashed with liquid jewels afloat in molten gold.

Colonel Carter Of Cartersville by F. Hopkinson Smith
The colonel had written several similar notes that week,--I lived but a few streets away,--all on the spur of the moment, and all expressive of his varying moods and wants;

The Underdog by F. Hopkinson Smith
The moral any man may draw for himself. I only want to ask my readers the question I have been asking myself ever since I saw the girl: Why should such things be among us?

My Friend Prospero by Henry Harland
"From Roccadoro a charming excursion may be made, up the beautiful Val Rampio, to the mediæval village of Sant' Alessina (7 miles), with its magnificent castle, in fine grounds, formerly a seat of the Sforzas

The Cardinal's Snuff-Box by Henry Harland
In the immediate foreground--at his feet, indeed--there was the river, the narrow Aco, peacock-green, a dark file of poplars on either bank, rushing pell-mell away from the quiet waters of the lake.

In the Wake of War by Hallie Erminie Rives
There is nothing so elusive yet so fascinating as a chance resemblance. We walk a street crowded with thousands of human atoms like ourselves, yet each meaningless, unindividual.

Katrine by Enilor Macartney Lane
The road which leads from Charlotte toward the south branches by the Haunted Hollow, the right fork going to Carlisle and the left following the rushing waters of the Way-Home River to the very gate-posts of Ravenel Plantation, through which the noisy water runs.

Viviette by William J. Locke
What woman can have suddenly revealed to her the thrilling sense of her sex's mastery over men without snatching now and then the fearful joy of using her power?

Septimus by William J. Locke
Two old Georgian houses covered with creepers, a modern Gothic church, two much more venerable and pious-looking inns, and a few cottages settling peacefully around a common form the village. Here and there a cottage lurks up a lane.

Jaffery by William J. Locke
I received a letter the day before yesterday from my old friend, Jaffery Chayne, which has inspired me to write the following account of that dear, bull-headed, Pantagruelian being. I must say that I have been egged on to do so by my wife

A Christmas Mystery by William J. Locke
Three men who had gained great fame and honour throughout the world met unexpectedly in front of the bookstall at Paddington Station.

The Morals of Marcus Ordeyne by William J. Locke
To-day is the seventh anniversary of my release from captivity. I will note it every year in my diary with a sigh of unutterable thanksgiving.

The Red Planet by William J. Locke
You see we were old comrades in the South African War, where we both got badly knocked to pieces. He was Sergeant in my battery, and the same Boer shell did for both of us

The Fortunate Youth by William J. Locke
They were not a model couple; they were rather, in fact, the scandal of Budge Street, which did not itself enjoy, in Bludston, a reputation for holiness. Neither was good to look upon.

Simon the Jester by William J. Locke
"What I want," said I, "is a place compared to which Golgotha, Aceldama, the Dead Sea, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, and the Bowery would be leafy bowers of uninterrupted delight."

The Wild Olive by Basil King
As he paused, he listened; but all distinctiveness of sound was lost in the play of the wind, up hill and down dale, through chasm and over crag, in those uncounted leagues of forest.

The Conquest of Fear by Basil King
I cannot remember the time when a dread of one kind or another was not in the air. In childhood it was the fear of going to bed, of that mysterious time when regular life was still going on downstairs

The Street Called Straight by Basil King
After a two years' absence from New England he had arrived in Waverton that day, "Oh, bother! bring him along," had been the formula in which Miss Guion had conveyed his invitation

The Inner Shrine by Basil King
If life in Paris was working up again to that feverish climax in which the season dies, it was only what she had witnessed every year since the last days of the Second Empire.

In The Bishop's Carriage by Miriam Michelson
There sat the woman who can never nurse her baby except where everybody can see her, in a railroad station. There was the woman who's always hungry, nibbling chocolates out of a box

The Prodigal Judge by Vaughan Kester
Shy dwellers from the pine woods, lanky jeans-clad men and sunbonneted women, who were gathering for the burial of the famous man of their neighborhood, grouped themselves about the lawn which had long since sunk to the uses of a pasture lot.

The Just and the Unjust by Vaughan Kester
Mr. Montgomery's comparative criticism of her husband's appearance had in due season reached the ears of the bride, and had caused a rupture in the family that the years had not healed

Lahoma by John Breckinridge Ellis
"You know I am something of an orator, or I guess you wouldn't of made me your leader. Now, as long as I'm your leader, I'm going to lead; but, I ain't never unreasonable

Fran by John Breckinridge Ellis
Fran knocked at the front door. It was too dark for her to find the bell; however, had she found it, she would have knocked just the same.

The Torrent by Vicente Blasco Ibañez
What would he be in for down there? A speech, probably! A speech on local politics! Or, if not a speech, idle talk about the orange crop,

Apocalypse From the Spanish The Four Horsemen by Vicente Blasco Ibañez
Five months had passed since their last interview in this square had afforded the wandering lovers the refuge of a damp, depressing calmness near a boulevard of continual movement close to a great railroad

The Shadow of the Cathedral by Vicente Blasco Ibañez
The dawn was just rising when Gabriel Luna arrived in front of the Cathedral, but in the narrow street of Toledo it was still night.

Mare Nostrum (Our Sea) by Vicente Blasco Ibañez
One day after mass Don Esteban had rapidly recounted her history to his little son. She was the daughter of Frederick the Second of Suabia, a Hohenstaufen, an emperor of Germany who esteemed still more his crown of Sicily.

The Eternal Feminine by Temple Bailey
That is where Anne always had the advantage of me. Although she had been a widow for five years, she still quoted the authoritative masculine point of view

His Family by Ernest Poole
He was thinking of a young New York, the mighty throbbing city to which he had come long ago as a lad from the New Hampshire mountains.

The McWilliams Special by Frank H. Spearman
It set master-mechanics by the ears and made reckless falsifiers of previously conservative trainmen. It made undying enemies of rival superintendents, and incipient paretics of jolly train-dispatchers.

The Run Of The Yellow Mail by Frank H. Spearman
The trouble was, no one on the division would take Jimmie seriously, and he felt that the ambition of his life would never be fulfilled; that he would go plugging to gray hairs and the grave on an old freight train;

For Visually Impaired see

Complete Sci-Fi
Complete Wild West Novels
Complete Horror Novels
Complete Detective Novels
Complete Children's and Fairy Tales
Complete Mystery Stories
Complete Religion
Complete British Writers
Complete Russian Writers
Complete Canadian Writers and Stories
Complete Philosophy
Complete Twentieth Century

Pages Updated On: 1-March--MMVII
Copyright © MMV -- MMVII
ArthursClassicNovels.com

Gutenberg Australia

Baen Free Library

for Etext