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Rosa Nouchette Carey. Uncle Max
Uncle Max
Table of Contents
CHAPTER I
OUT OF THE MIST
CHAPTER II
BEHIND THE BARS
CHAPTER III
CINDERELLA
CHAPTER IV
UNCLE MAX BREAKS THE ICE
CHAPTER V
'WHEN THE CAT IS AWAY'
CHAPTER VI
THE WHITE COTTAGE
CHAPTER VII
GILES HAMILTON, ESQ
CHAPTER VIII
NEW BROOMS SWEEP CLEAN
CHAPTER IX
THE FLAG OF TRUCE
CHAPTER X
A DIFFICULT PATIENT
CHAPTER XI
ONE OF GOD'S HEROINES
CHAPTER XII
A MISSED VOCATION
CHAPTER XIII
LADY BETTY
CHAPTER XIV
LADY BETTY LEAVES HER MUFF
CHAPTER XV
UP AT GLADWYN
CHAPTER XVI
GLADYS
CHAPTER XVII
'WHY NOT TRUST ME, MAX?'
CHAPTER XVIII
MISS HAMILTON'S LITTLE SCHOLAR
CHAPTER XIX
THE PICTURE IN GLADYS'S ROOM
CHAPTER XX
ERIC
CHAPTER XXI
'I RAN AWAY, THEN!'
CHAPTER XXII
'THEY HAVE BLACKENED HIS MEMORY FALSELY'
CHAPTER XXIII
THE MYSTERY AT GLADWYN
CHAPTER XXIV
WEEPING MAY ENDURE FOR A NIGHT
CHAPTER XXV
'THERE IS NO ONE LIKE DONALD'
CHAPTER XXVI
I HEAR ABOUT CAPTAIN HAMILTON
CHAPTER XXVII
MAX OPENS HIS HEART
CHAPTER XXVIII
CROSSING THE RIVER
CHAPTER XXIX
MISS DARRELL HAS A HEADACHE
CHAPTER XXX
WITH TIMBRELS AND DANCES
CHAPTER XXXI
WEDDING-CHIMES
CHAPTER XXXII
A FIERY ORDEAL
CHAPTER XXXIII
JACK POYNTER
CHAPTER XXXIV
I COMMUNICATE WITH JOE MUGGINS
CHAPTER XXXV
NIGHTINGALES AND ROSES
CHAPTER XXXVI
BREAKERS AHEAD
CHAPTER XXXVII
'I CLAIM THAT PROMISE, URSULA'
CHAPTER XXXVIII
IN THE TURRET-ROOM
CHAPTER XXXIX
WHITEFOOT IS SADDLED
CHAPTER XL
THE TALK IN THE GLOAMING
CHAPTER XLI
'AT FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING'
CHAPTER XLII
DOWN THE PEMBERLEY ROAD
CHAPTER XLIII
'CONSPIRACY CORNER'
CHAPTER XLIV
LEAH'S CONFESSION
CHAPTER XLV
'THIS HOME IS YOURS NO LONGER'
CHAPTER XLVI
NAP BARKS IN THE STABLE-YARD
CHAPTER XLVII
'AT LAST, URSULA, AT LAST!'
CHAPTER XLVIII
'WHAT 0' THE WAY TO THE END?'
Отрывок из книги
Rosa Nouchette Carey
Published by Good Press, 2019
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'Why are your fingers all thumbs to-day, Fräulein?' Herr Schliefer would demand gloomily. Jill, who was really fond of the stern old professor, hung her head and blushed guiltily. She had no excuse to offer: her girlish dreams were sacred to her; they came gliding to her through the most intricate passages of the sonata, now with a staccato movement—brisk, lively—with fitful energy, now andante, then crescendo, con passione. Jill's unformed girlish hands strike the chords wildly, angrily. 'Dolce, dolce,' screams the professor in her ears. The music softens, wanes, and the dreams seem to die away too. 'That will do, Fräulein: you have not acquitted yourself so badly after all.' And Jill gets off her music-stool reluctant, absent, half awake, and her day-dream broken up into chaos.
Table of Contents
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