The Great Tradition: And Other Stories

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Charles Scribner's Sons, 1915 - 353 pages
 

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Page 185 - Not the deaf generations, she thought to herself, to which we all sacrifice. "Not Geoffrey," she heard Glave saying. "He will never understand. But he will always love us just the same. He'll have to. We haven't answered him. Life has answered him. Call it God, if you must. . . . I'm awfully tired.
Page 155 - Instead, she arranged herself slowly in a comfortable position, then clasped her hands behind her head and stared before her into the half-dead fire. Relaxed, but poised — a typical attitude — she began to think. . . . Good old Haysthorpe! He had been a classmate of Roland's, and his half-melancholy, half-cynical presence, his slight limp, his comfortable, safe income which he had never tried to increase, though with his relations it would have been so easy, had been familiar facts of all her...
Page 184 - ... quick planning of the terrifyingly expensive future; much tender, atoning mention of Stanton himself. The little girls were forgotten — Hesperia would have done well enough for them ! Both knew that bitter reactions would come ; Glave braced himself, in the intervals, to the sub-editorship that his sensitive independence had long refused ;, Rhoda saw, in the silent instants, white hospital cots and the cheerful masks of nurses. . . . Both clung to the slight exaltation left them, made conscious...
Page 176 - ... own! — to be so important as Roland Glave. You think I wish ill to poor little Stanton — I don't. But I don't wish to see Roland despoiled for Stanton's problematical sake. I don't see what the world gets out of that. The bird in the hand is worth all four in the bush, if it comes to that. And you know as well as I do that this is practically a question of Roland's future. It's because the day's so late, and it's all so damnably important, that I'm behaving like this. To have Roland go under...
Page 308 - I should think not ! I've never wanted to go out under ether. And that is what it would really amount to. Thentalk of my ' chance ' ! No, indeed. If there had been a real chance, he'd have carried me off bodily — he wouldn't have hemmed and hawed to you." "How do you know what he did?
Page 181 - The talk had gone on for hours; and always Dr. Tuck recurred like some devil out of the machine. They couldn't get away from the fact; they couldn't get away from the situation. By midnight they seemed, to Rhoda's tired brain, petrified into a symbolic group: Geoffrey hoarse with the amount of bitter common sense he had talked, she and Roland fixed for all time in some mythological attitude of parenthood — something for archaeologists to interpret. It wasn't that they didn't long to be delivered...
Page 163 - What is it?" Her cleverness seemed all to have deserted her. She beat wildly in a bright fog of conjecture. "A perfectly good, though naturally very small, diplomatic post. Minister to Something-or-other with a lovely climate, where you can afford twenty servants and pick your food, in courses, off the trees. Not a thing for Glave to do, really, but produce masterpieces, and now and then practise his impeccable Spanish on dignitaries. What price that, madame I
Page 155 - ... relations it would have been so easy, had been familiar facts of all her married life. He had loyally taken her over, as she had loyally taken him. He wasn't there very often — he was usually wandering about the earth — but whenever he was, she found him welcome. Veils dropped away when he came. Oh, she liked Haysthorpe. He gave them both the re-quickened sense of their own brilliant beginning. Whatever else he was cynical about, he was never cynical about them. He took their romance delicately...
Page 120 - to my host. When I heard no order given, no sound made, I finally turned my head. Rodney Teele was standing near the great table, but erect, quite independent of the support it offered. His eyes were bent on the card, and, from every tense and narrowed feature, I could see that he was considering a plan of action and did not mean to speak prematurely. I was uncomfortable — Rodney Teele in the act of decision was, even to an outsider, an impressive figure. I felt, besides, as if I were looking...
Page 56 - They're becoming, aren't they, Pierce?" He set his glass down with a crash (we were drinking that excellent wine out of thick kitchen tumblers). He, too, was flushed. They were all flushed, as if some common emotion thrilled them. I was embarrassed; I felt " out of it"; and instinctively put up my hand to my own cheek to see if my face felt hot. It didn't; my habitual pallor had presumably not forsaken me. But a curious, intangible barrier seemed to rise between them and me. Parmenter, meanwhile,...

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