United States or Sierra Leone ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Well, Doctor Grimshawe easily got at what seemed to be all of the facts of Colcord's life; how that he was a New-Englander, the descendant of an ancient race of settlers, the last of them; for, once pretty numerous in their quarter of the country, they seemed to have been dying out, exhaling from the earth, and passing to some other region. "No wonder," said the Doctor bluffly.
The grim Doctor's kindness, however, and gratitude, had been so thoroughly awakened, that he did not feel the disgust that he probably otherwise might at what seemed the mawkishness of Colcord's character; his want, morally speaking, of bone and muscle; his fastidiousness of character, the essence of which it seemed to be to bear no stain upon it; otherwise it must die.
She had entertained doubts concerning him, had, in fact, resented the business necessity which had brought him thither as guest of honor, not through any emotion approximating inhospitality but wholly because of her mistrust as to the effect of this alien note upon her dinner, which was quite impromptu, having been arranged at the eleventh hour in deference to the wishes of Jerry Dane, a partner of Colcord's, who was handling the firm's foreign war patents.
Colcord's fine brow was wrinkled painfully. "Nothing, Arnold, nothing. That's the trouble; you have to sit still and watch this wrecking of civilization or else get out and take a hack at the thing yourself. I can't do that; not unless I have to." He paused. "I've had a good time in this life; things have always come easily " Sybil Latham was regarding him contemplatively.
On Colcord's part there was a good deal of evidence to be detected, by a nice observer, that he found it difficult to put up with the Doctor's coarse peculiarities, whether physical or moral.
A wayfarer, head down, was struggling through the nimbus of watery electric light; a horse-drawn vehicle was plodding by. Colcord's voice brought her back; it was strained. "I don't feel as Allison does," he said. "And I certainly have no sympathy with Simec." He leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "You see," he went on, "I I well, maybe, I'm a product of extended peace, as Simec puts it.
Lincoln Colcord's two stories show qualities of artistic conscience reënforcing an imaginative substance so real that another year or two should suffice for him to take his place with the leaders of American fiction. I must affirm once more the genuine literary art of Fannie Hurst.
"But I want to say this right here: if some person or presence, some supernatural being, say, should come here to-night, at this table, and tell me that by giving up my life right now I would, through that act, bring an end to " "Nick!" Evelyn Colcord's voice was poignantly sharp. "If through that little sacrifice the blood glut in Europe would end, I'd do it cheerfully, joyfully, in a minute."
Evelyn Colcord's throat clicked; for a moment she did not breathe, while a vivid flash of jealous emotion departed, leaving in its place a great peace, an exaltation born of sudden knowing. Instinctively seeking further confirmation, her eyes, now wide and big and flaming, swept to Latham. His face, too, was turned toward her husband.
The Game of Life and Death: Stories of the Sea By LINCOLN COLCORD, Author of "The Drifting Diamond," etc. With frontispiece. Decorated cloth, 12mo. $1.25 net. Upon the appearance of Mr. Colcord's The Drifting Diamond, critics throughout the country had a great deal to say on the pictures of the sea which it contained. Mr.
Word Of The Day