Tiny Luttrell

Tiny Luttrell
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Hornung Ernest William. Tiny Luttrell

CHAPTER I. THE COMING OF TINY

CHAPTER II. SWIFT OF WALLANDOON

CHAPTER III. THE TAIL OF THE SEASON

CHAPTER IV. RUTH AND CHRISTINA

CHAPTER V. ESSINGHAM RECTORY

CHAPTER VI. A MATTER OF ANCIENT HISTORY

CHAPTER VII. THE SHADOW OF THE HALL

CHAPTER VIII "COUNTESS DROMARD AT HOME."

CHAPTER IX. MOTHER AND SON

CHAPTER X. A THREATENING DAWN

CHAPTER XI. IN THE LADIES' TENT

CHAPTER XII. ORDEAL BY BATTLE

CHAPTER XIII. HER HOUR OF TRIUMPH

CHAPTER XIV. A CYCLE OF MOODS

CHAPTER XV. THE INVISIBLE IDEAL

CHAPTER XVI. FOREIGN SOIL

CHAPTER XVII. THE HIGH SEAS

CHAPTER XVIII. THE THIRD TIME OF ASKING

CHAPTER XIX. COUNSEL'S OPINION

CHAPTER XX. IN HONOR BOUND

CHAPTER XXI. A DEAF EAR

CHAPTER XXII. SUMMUM BONUM

Отрывок из книги

Christina was awakened in the morning by the holland blind flapping against her open window. It was a soft, insinuating sound, that awoke one gradually, and to Christina both the cause and the awakening itself seemed incredibly familiar. So had she lain and listened in the past, as each day broke in her brain. When she opened her eyes the shadow of the sash wriggled on the blind as it flapped, a blade of sunshine lay under the door that opened upon the veranda, and neither sight was new to her. The same sheets of the Australasian with which her own hands had once lined the room, for want of a conventional wallpaper, lined it still; the same area of printed matter was in focus from the pillow, and she actually remembered an advertisement that caught her eye. It used to catch her eye two years before. Thus it became difficult to believe in those two years; and it was very pleasant to disbelieve in them. More than pleasant Christina found it to lie where she was, hearing the old noises (the horses were run up before she rose), seeing the old things, and dreaming that the last two years were themselves a dream. Her life as it stood was a much less charming composition than several possible arrangements of the same material, impossible now. This is not strange, but it was a little strange that neither sweet impossibilities nor bitter actualities fascinated her much; for so many good girls are morbidly introspective. As for Christina, let it be clearly and early understood that she was neither an introspective girl by nature nor a particularly good one from any point of view. She was not in the habit of looking back; but to look back on the old days here at the station without thinking of later days was like reading an uneven book for the second time, leaving out the poor part.

In making, but still more in closing that gap in her life (as you close a table after taking out a leaf) she was immensely helped by the associations of the present moment. They breathed of the remote past only; their breath was sweet and invigorating. Her affection for Wallandoon was no affectation; she loved it as she loved no other place. And if, as she dressed, her thoughts dwelt more on the young manager of the station than on the station itself, that only illustrates the difference between an association and an associate. There is human interest in the one, but it does not follow that Tiny Luttrell was immoderately interested in Jack Swift. Even to herself she denied that she had ever done more than like him very much. To some "nonsense" in the past she was ready to own. But in the vocabulary of a Tiny Luttrell a little "nonsense" may cover a calendar of mild crimes. It is only the Jack Swifts who treat the nonsense seriously and deny that the crimes are anything of the sort, because for their part they "mean it." Women are not deceived. Besides, it is less shame for them to say they never meant it.

.....

For some reason her face flamed as he watched it. There was a pause. Then he said:

"You are not engaged; are you in love?"

.....

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