That Stick
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Оглавление
Yonge Charlotte Mary. That Stick
CHAPTER I. HONOURS
CHAPTER II. HONOURS REFLECTED
CHAPTER III. WHAT IS HONOUR?
CHAPTER IV. HONOURS WANING
CHAPTER V. THE PEER
CHAPTER VI. THE WEIGHT OF HONOURS
CHAPTER VII. MORTONS AND MANNERS
CHAPTER VIII. SECOND THOUGHTS
CHAPTER IX. THE HEIR-PRESUMPTUOUS
CHAPTER X. COMING HONOURS
CHAPTER XI. POSSESSION
CHAPTER XII. THE BURTHEN OF HONOURS
CHAPTER XIII. THE DOWER HOUSE
CHAPTER XIV. WESTHAVEN VERSIONS OF HONOURS
CHAPTER XV. THE PIED ROOK
CHAPTER XVI. WHAT IS REST?
CHAPTER XVII. ON THE SURFACE
CHAPTER XVIII. DESDICHADO
CHAPTER XIX. THE DOLOMITES
CHAPTER XX. RATZES
CHAPTER XXI. THE HEIR-APPARENT
CHAPTER XXII. OUT OF JOINT
CHAPTER XXIII. VELVET
CHAPTER XXIV. THE REVENGE OF SORDID SPIRITS
CHAPTER XXV. THE LOVE
CHAPTER XXVI. IDA’S WARNING
CHAPTER XXVII. THE YOUNG PRETENDER
CHAPTER XXVIII. TWO BUNDLES OF HAY
CHAPTER XXIX. JONES OR RATTLER
CHAPTER XXX. SCARLET FEVER
CHAPTER XXXI. MITE
CHAPTER XXXII. A SHOCK
CHAPTER XXXIII. DARKNESS
CHAPTER XXXIV. THE PHANTOM OF THE STATION
CHAPTER XXXV. THE QUEST
CHAPTER XXXVI. IDA’S CONFESSION
CHAPTER XXXVII. HOPE
CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE CLUE
CHAPTER XXXIX. THE HONOURABLE PAUPER
CHAPTER XL. JOY WELL-NIGH INCREDIBLE
CHAPTER XLI. THE CANADIAN NORTHMOOR
CHAPTER XLII. HUMBLE PIE
CHAPTER XLIII. THE STAFF
Отрывок из книги
On the beach at Westhaven, beyond the town and harbour, stood a row of houses, each with a garden of tamarisk, thrift, and salt-loving flowers, frequented by lodgers in search of cheap sea breezes, and sometimes by families of yachting personages who liked to have their headquarters on shore.
Two girls were making their way to one of these. One was so tall though very slight, that in spite of the dark hair streaming in the wind, she looked more than her fifteen years, and her brilliant pink-and-white complexioned face confirmed the impression. Her sister, keeping as much as she could under her lee, was about twelve years old, much more childish as well as softer, smaller, with lighter colouring and blue eyes. Going round the end of the house, they entered by the back door, and turning into a little parlour, they threw off their hats and gloves. The younger one began to lay the table for dinner, while the elder, throwing herself down panting, called out—
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‘I am sure you are very kind, Mr. Rollstone. I had no notion—Ida can tell you I was quite overcome—though when I came to think of it, my poor, dear Morton always did say he had high connections, but I always thought it was one of his jokes.’
‘Then as I understand, Mrs. Morton, the lamented deceased was junior to the present Lord Northmoor?’
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