Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 27, 2025
It was a little after nine o'clock when Harold Bince arose to leave. "I'll drive you home," volunteered the girl. "Just wait, and I'll have Barry bring the roadster around." "I thought we should always do the things that gentle-folk should do," said Bince, grinning, after being seated safely in the car. They had turned out of the driveway into Lincoln Parkway. "What do you mean?" asked Elizabeth.
She watched them recede down the narrow asphalt of the parkway. At eleven o'clock, to lessen her stiffening of joints, she walked twice the circumference of the fenced-in inclosure, finally sitting again, this time beneath a gaunt oleander that was heavy with bud. "O God!" she kept repeating, her stress growing. "O God! God! God!"
The same column carried information for those who contemplated voyaging to Newport or Providence. The Post Road to Boston of those days differed much from the Boston Post Road of the present; especially in its first stages going northward from New York. There was no spacious Pelham Parkway skirting the waters of the Long Island Sound.
It was not until they reached the Eastern Parkway and were speeding toward the twinkling lights of the city that their little bubble of intimacy, blown in the moonlight, was shattered by a word. "Say, Miss Eleanor," Quin blurted out unexpectedly, "do you like me?" The question, together with the fact that he had dared used her first name, brought her up with a start.
He was approaching the entrance to an alley. Old trees grew in the parkway at his side. At the street corner a half block away a high flung arc swung gently from its supporting cables, casting a fair light upon the alley's mouth, and just emerging from behind the nearer fence Willie Case saw the huge bulk of a bear.
She sprang into her own taxi with a swift word to the chauffeur and bowled away, leaving her erstwhile guard wringing her hands in the road. At the gate of the neat little frame house far up on the Parkway, her driver hesitated. "Excuse me, Miss, but it's only fair to tell you this car can be traced here from the stand.
"Wait a minute, Vernie. You and Father are so prejudiced that it's scarcely worth while trying to talk to you, but mother has enough to worry about as it is, with Willa on her hands. Besides, I I couldn't very well explain how I happened to see her, but I should like to know what Willa was doing in a horrid little frame house out on the Parkway at five o'clock this afternoon." Vernon stared.
West and Utie settled on either side of a bay formed by the joining of King's Creek and Felgate's Creek about four miles above modern Yorktown. The tourist who speeds along the Colonial Parkway from Jamestown to Yorktown crosses the bay within sight of the tracts granted West and Utie. Today he may drive from Jamestown to the York with comfort and safety in a few minutes.
The blood of some seagoing ancestor stirred in his veins, and he thrilled at the thought of the days to come when his prow should be headed offshore. The taxicab had its limitations, and Hambleton suddenly became impatient of its monotonous slithering along the firm road. Telling the driver to follow him, he descended and crossed to where Cathedral Parkway switches off.
The white-haired one pushed a bill across the counter. "To pay for breakage," he said, and disappeared down Pelham Parkway. Throughout the day, with the bill, for evidence, pasted against the mirror, the barkeeper told and retold the wondrous tale. "He stood just where you're standing now," he related, "blowing in million-dollar bills like you'd blow suds off a beer.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking