Arlo Bates (1850–1918)
Auteur van The Puritans
Over de Auteur
Fotografie: Image from Little pilgrimages among the men who have written famous books: second series (1903) by Edward Francis Harkins
Werken van Arlo Bates
Strange Idyl 2 exemplaren
A gentle jury a farce in one act 1 exemplaar
Gerelateerde werken
Tagged
Algemene kennis
- Geboortedatum
- 1850
- Overlijdensdatum
- 1918
- Geslacht
- male
- Beroepen
- teacher
- Prijzen en onderscheidingen
- American Academy of Arts and Letters (Literature ∙ 1905)
Leden
Besprekingen
Prijzen
Misschien vindt je deze ook leuk
Gerelateerde auteurs
Statistieken
- Werken
- 18
- Ook door
- 1
- Leden
- 68
- Populariteit
- #253,411
- Waardering
- 4.0
- Besprekingen
- 2
- ISBNs
- 55
- Talen
- 1
"Oh, Mrs. Harbinger," May Calthorpe responded, eagerly defensive, "it isn't a stupid name."
Mrs. Harbinger settled herself back into the pile of gay cushions in the corner of the sofa, and went on without heeding the interruption:—
"I have heard nothing but 'Love in a Cloud,' 'Love in a Cloud,' until it gives me a feeling of nausea. Nobody talks of anything else."
May nodded her head triumphantly, a bright sparkle in her brown eyes.
"That only shows what a perfectly lovely book it is," she declared.
Mrs. Harbinger laughed, and bent forward to arrange a ribbon at May's throat.
"I don't care if it is the loveliest book ever written," she responded; "I won't have it stuffed down my throat morning, noon, and night. Why, if you'll believe it, my husband, who never reads novels, not only read it, but actually kept awake over it, and after that feat he'll talk of it for months."
Pretty May Calthorpe leaned forward with more animation than the mere discussion of an anonymous novel seemed to call for, and caught one of her hostess's hands in both her own.
"Oh, did Mr. Harbinger like it?" she asked. "I am so interested to know what he thinks of it."
"You never will know from me, my dear," was the cool response. "I've forbidden him to speak of it. I tell you that I am bored to death with the old thing."
May started up suddenly from the sofa where she had been sitting beside Mrs. Harbinger. With rather an offended air she crossed to the fireplace, and began to arrange her hat before the mirror over the mantel. Mrs. Harbinger, smiling to herself, gave her attention to setting in order the cups on the tea-table before her. The sun of the April afternoon came in through the window, and from the polished floor of the drawing-room was reflected in bright patches on the ceiling; the brightness seemed to gather about the young, girlish face which looked out from the glass, with red lips and willful brown hair in tendrils over the white forehead. Yet as she faced her reflection, May pouted and put on the look of one aggrieved.… (meer)