Captain Desmond, V.C.
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Оглавление
Diver Maud. Captain Desmond, V.C.
BOOK I
CHAPTER I. JUDGE FOR YOURSELF
CHAPTER II. I WANT TO BE FIRST
CHAPTER III. THE BIG CHAPS
CHAPTER IV. ESPECIALLY WOMEN
CHAPTER V. AN EXPURGATED EDITION
CHAPTER VI. GENIUS OF CHARACTER
CHAPTER VII. BRIGHT EYES OF DANGER
CHAPTER VIII. STICK TO THE FRONTIER
CHAPTER IX. WE'LL JUST FORGET
CHAPTER X. A SQUARE BARGAIN
CHAPTER XI. YOU DON'T KNOW DESMOND
CHAPTER XII. NOW IT'S DIFFERENT
CHAPTER XIII. IT ISN'T FAIR
CHAPTER XIV. I SIMPLY INSIST
CHAPTER XV. GOOD ENOUGH, ISN'T IT?
CHAPTER XVI. SIGNED AND SEALED
BOOK II
CHAPTER XVII. YOU WANT TO GO!
CHAPTER XVIII. LOVE THAT IS LIFE!
CHAPTER XIX. IT'S NOT MAJOR WYNDHAM
CHAPTER XX. THE DEVIL'S PECULIARITY?
CHAPTER XXI. I AM YOURS
CHAPTER XXII. THE CHEAPER MAN
CHAPTER XXIII. YOU GO ALONE
CHAPTER XXIV. I WANT LADYBIRD
CHAPTER XXV. THE MOONLIGHT SONATA
CHAPTER XXVI. STAND TO YOUR GUNS
CHAPTER XXVII. THE EXECRABLE UNKNOWN
CHAPTER XXVIII. YOU SHALL NOT – !
CHAPTER XXIX. THE UTTERMOST FARTHING
CHAPTER XXX. SHE SHALL UNDERSTAND
CHAPTER XXXI. THE LOSS OF ALL
CHAPTER XXXII. EVEN TO THE UTMOST
CHAPTER XXXIII. THE ONE BIG THING
CHAPTER XXXIV. C'ÉTAIT MA VIE
AFTERMATH
I
II
III
Отрывок из книги
In revising and partially rewriting my novel, 'Captain Desmond, V.C.,' I have been glad to make good the opportunity afforded me of bringing the Aftermath nearer to my original conception than it was in its first form. The three short chapters now substituted for the one final scene are therefore, in essence, no innovation. They represent more or less what I conceived at the time, but suppressed through fear of making my book too long; and thereby risked upsetting the balance of sympathy, which I hope the fresh chapters may tend to restore.
The full moon hung low in the west like a lamp. A chequered mantle of light and shadow lay over the mountain-barrier of India's north-western frontier, and over the desolate levels through which the train, with its solitary English passenger, sauntered at the rate of seven miles an hour. Even this degree of speed was clearly something of an achievement, attainable only by incessant halting to take breath – for ten or fifteen minutes – at embryo stations: a platform, a shelter, and a few unhappy-looking out-buildings set down in a land of death and silence – a profitless desert, hard as the nether millstone and unfruitful as the grave.
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"May I?" he asked, with the diffidence of a man unused to making such requests.
"I generally manage all right, thanks."
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