United States or Senegal ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Every one enraged with Robert Hichens because "Bella Donna's" Nigel recommended The Fayoum. "No wonder she poisoned him!" snarled Mrs. Harlow. Our Arabs riding ahead look magnificent, seeming to wade through a flood of gold, the feet and legs of their camels floating in a rose-pink mist.
"It means that it was to be sung to a tune called Shoshannim or Lilies doubtless a well-known one." "It has a beautiful name, then; and he calls it too 'Maschil, A song of Loves." "Historically no doubt you are right," agreed Mr. Hichens. "The song is undoubtedly later than David, and was written as a Prothalamion for a royal bride.
This is a novelization of the popular play in which David War, field, as Old Peter Grimm, scored such a remarkable success. The story is spectacular and extremely pathetic but withal, powerful, both as a book and as a play. THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens. This novel is an intense, glowing epic of the great desert, sunlit barbaric, with its marvelous atmosphere of vastness and loneliness.
Police Commissioner Hichens would spend all week-ends with her; that is to say, he would leave Bombay by the first train going up after Court closed on Saturday and would be obliged to take the Sunday evening train down.
Her eyes rested on him, still smiling, but behind her smile she was wondering. Ruth feared and distrusted all religious folk clergymen above all; yet instinct had told her at the first that Mr. Hichens was honest, even good in an unlovely fashion; and by many small daily tests she had proved this. Was it possible that Mr. Hichens had ever gathered roses in his youth?
Hichens was but recently a bride; a mere girl and lovely; but within a few weeks of her landing, Bombay fever had begun to destroy the more tangible qualities of her beauty which could not be permitted. It does not take long for the most exalted official to discover that Bombay fever resembles the Supreme Being in that it is no respecter of persons.
A foreigner in this country is nothing better than a wild man, without a servant." "I have one " Skag spoke with inward satisfaction: " Bhanah the old cook, who did serve Police " "Not Police Commissioner Hichens' Bhanah?" "Yes." "How?" "He came to me." "Did you negotiate with him?" "No." "Then will you kindly tell me, why?" "I do not know." There was a marked pause. The eyes had become wide.
The usages of his household may not be questioned by a thought, if one is wise. Police Commissioner Hichens was such a man. He was stationed in Bombay and there is nothing better in appointment in all India. His responsibilities were heavy like those of an empire. Personally he was austere entirely unapproachable. Of his home life no one knew anything whatever, outside the very few of equal rank.
To many it seemed strange that the present Mrs. Hichens, a regal young English thing, was made to live in a lonely tent, well back among dense jungle growths, quite out of sight or call away from any human habitation, with her husband's little son and littler daughter and the Great Dane dog.
It has been said that Police Commissioner Hichens was an unapproachable man; and some things are impossible. One can die, you know, any death. But some things are entirely impossible. The day came when she dragged her weary weight up from the couch and drove her unsteady frame along the new pathway through jungle thickets toward the village.
Word Of The Day