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George Gissing was a British novelist, most famous for his novels The Nether World, New Grub Street, and The Odd Women. He is said to have been primarily influenced by Emile Zola.
George Gissing was a British novelist, most famous for his novels The Nether World, New Grub Street, and The Odd Women. He is said to have been primarily influenced by Emile Zola.
The sea-wind in his hair, his eyes agleam with the fresh memory of Alpine snows, Will Warburton sprang out of the cab, paid the driver a double fare, flung on to his shoulder a heavy bag and ran up, two steps at a stride, to a flat on the fourth floor of the many-tenanted building hard by Chelsea Bridge. His rat-tat-tat brought to the door a thin yellow face, cautious in espial, through the narrow opening.
"Is it you, sir?"
"All right, Mrs. Hopper! How are you?-how are you?"
He threw his bag into the passage, and cordially grasped the woman's hands.
"Dinner ready? Savagely hungry. Give me three minutes, and serve."
For about that length of time there sounded in the bedroom a splashing and a blowing; then Warburton came forth with red cheeks. He seized upon a little pile of letters and packets which lay on his writing-table, broke envelopes, rent wrappers, and read with now an ejaculation of pleasure, now a grunt of disgust, and again a mirthful half roar. Then, dinner-the feeding of a famished man of robust appetite and digestion, a man three or four years on the green side of thirty. It was a speedy business, in not much more than a quarter of an hour there disappeared a noble steak and its appurtenances, a golden-crusted apple tart, a substantial slice of ripe Cheddar, two bottles of creamy Bass.
"Now I can talk!" cried Will to his servant, as he threw himself into a deep chair, and began lighting his pipe. "What's the news? I seem to have been away three months rather than three weeks."
"Mr. Franks called yesterday, sir, late in the afternoon, when I was here cleaning. He was very glad to hear you'd be back to-day, and said he might look in to-night."
"Good! What else?"
"My brother-in-law wishes to see you, sir. He's in trouble again-lost his place at Boxon's a few days ago. I don't exac'ly know how it happened, but he'll explain everything. He's very unfortunate, sir, is Allchin."
"Tell him to come before nine to-morrow morning, if he can."
"Yes, sir. I'm sure it's very kind of you, sir."
"What else?"
"Nothing as I can think of just now, sir."
Warburton knew from the woman's way of speaking that she had something still in her mind; but his pipe being well lit, and a pleasant lassitude creeping over him, he merely nodded. Mrs. Hopper cleared the table, and withdrew.
The window looked across the gardens of Chelsea Hospital (old-time Ranelagh) to the westward reach of the river, beyond which lay Battersea Park, with its lawns and foliage. A beam of the July sunset struck suddenly through the room. Warburton was aware of it with half-closed eyes; he wished to stir himself, and look forth, but languor held his limbs, and wreathing tobacco-smoke kept his thoughts among the mountains. He might have quite dozed off had not a sudden noise from within aroused him-the unmistakable crash of falling crockery. It made him laugh, a laugh of humorous expostulation. A minute or two passed, then came a timid tap at his door, and Mrs. Hopper showed her face.
"Another accident, sir, I'm sorry to say," were her faltering words.
"Extensive?"
"A dish and two plates, I'm sorry to say, sir."
"Oh, that's nothing."
"Of course I shall make them good, sir."
"Pooh! Aren't there plates enough?"
"Oh, quite enough-just yet, sir."
Warburton subdued a chuckle, and looked with friendly smile at his domestic, who stood squeezing herself between the edge of the door and the jamb-her habit when embarrassed. Mrs. Hopper had served him for three years; he knew all her weaknesses, but thought more of her virtues, chief of which were honest intention and a moderate aptitude for plain cooking. A glance about this room would have proved to any visitor that Mrs. Hopper's ideas of cleanliness were by no means rigid, her master had made himself to a certain extent responsible for this defect; he paid little attention to dust, provided that things were in their wonted order. Mrs. Hopper was not a resident domestic; she came at stated hours. Obviously a widow, she had a poor, loose-hung, trailing little body, which no nourishment could plump or fortify. Her visage was habitually doleful, but contracted itself at moments into a grin of quaint drollery, which betrayed her for something of a humorist.
"My fingers is all gone silly to-day, sir," she pursued. "I daresay it's because I haven't had much sleep these last few nights."
"How's that?"
"It's my poor sister, sir-my sister Liza, I mean-she's had one of her worst headaches-the extra special, we call 'em. This time it's lasted more than three days, and not one minute of rest has the poor thing got."
Warburton was all sympathy; he inquired about the case as though it were that of an intimate friend. Change of air and repose were obvious remedies; no less obviously, these things were out of the question for a working woman who lived on a few shillings a week.
"Do you know of any place she could go to?" asked Warburton, adding carelessly, "if the means were provided."
Mrs. Hopper squeezed herself more tightly than ever between door and jamb. Her head was bent in an abashed way, and when she spoke it was in a thick, gurgling tone, only just intelligible.
"There's a little lodging 'ouse at Southend, sir, where we used to go when my 'usband could afford it."
"Well, look here. Get a doctor's opinion whether Southend would do; if not, which place would. And just send her away. Don't worry about the money."
Experience enabled Mrs. Hopper to interpret this advice. She stammered gratitude.
"How's your other sister-Mrs. Allchin?" Warburton inquired kindly.
"Why, sir, she's doing pretty well in her 'ealth, sir, but her baby died yesterday week. I hope you'll excuse me, sir, for all this bad news just when you come back from your holiday, and when it's natural as you don't feel in very good spirits."
Will had much ado not to laugh. On his return from a holiday, Mrs. Hopper always presumed him to be despondent in view of the resumption of daily work. He was beginning to talk of Mrs. Allchin's troubles, when at the outer door sounded a long nervous knock.
"Ha! That's Mr. Franks."
Mrs. Hopper ran to admit the visitor.
This book is a replica, produced from digital images of the original. It was scanned at the University of Toronto Libraries and may contain defects, missing
The summer day in 1874 which closed the annual session of Whitelaw College was marked by a special ceremony, preceding the wonted distribution of academic rewards.
This scarce antiquarian book is a facsimile reprint of the original. Due to its age, it may contain imperfections such as marks, notations, marginalia and flawed pages. Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment for protecting, preserving, and promoting the world's literature in affordable, high quality, modern editions that are true to the original work.
Trajectory presents classics of world literature with 21st century features! Our original-text editions include the following visual enhancements to foster a deeper understanding of the work: Word Clouds at the start of each chapter highlight important words. Word, sentence, paragraph counts, and reading time help readers and teachers determine chapter complexity. Co-occurrence graphs depict character-to-character interactions as well character to place interactions. Sentiment indexes identify positive and negative trends in mood within each chapter. Frequency graphs help display the impact this book has had on popular culture since its original date of publication. Use Trajectory analytics to deepen comprehension, to provide a focus for discussions and writing assignments, and to engage new readers with some of the greatest stories ever told."The Moving Picture Girls: Or, First Appearances in Photo Dramas" is part of "The Moving Picture Girls" series. "The Moving Picture Girls" is a series about the adventures of Ruth and Alice DeVere who live with their father who is an actor.
Novelist, born at Wakefield. In his novels he depicted the environment and struggles of the lower and lower middle classes with a somewhat pessimistic and depressing realism, although his last work, The Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft, seemed to usher in the dawn of a somewhat brighter outlook. His other novels include Demos [1886], Thyrza [1887], The Nether World [1889], New Grub Street [1891], Born in Exile [1892], In the Year of Jubilee [1894], and The Town Traveller [1898]. He died at St. Jean de Luz in the Pyrenees.
One of George Gissing's greatest strengths as a novelist was his ability to highlight differences between socioeconomic classes and all the advantages that a higher class standing can bestow. That's the idea at the center of the gripping epic Thyrza, which Gissing himself identified as one of his favorites from his own body of work. Working-class Thyrza Trent was born with beauty, brains, and ambition—but she doesn't have the social status necessary to be able to fully leverage these gifts.
They don't know I'm a girl. They all look at me and see a boy. A prince. Their kind purchase humans like me for their lustful desires. And, when they stormed into our kingdom to buy my sister, I intervened to protect her. I made them take me too. The plan was to escape with my sister whenever we found a chance. How was I to know our prison would be the most fortified place in their kingdom? I was supposed to be on the sidelines. The one they had no real use for. The one they never meant to buy. But then, the most important person in their savage land-their ruthless beast king-took an interest in the "pretty little prince." How do we survive in this brutal kingdom, where everyone hates our kind and shows us no mercy? And how does someone, with a secret like mine, become a lust slave? . AUTHOR'S NOTE. This is a dark romance-dark, mature content. Highly rated 18+ Expect triggers, expect hardcore. If you're a seasoned reader of this genre, looking for something different, prepared to go in blindly not knowing what to expect at every turn, but eager to know more anyway, then dive in! . From the author of the international bestselling book: "The Alpha King's Hated Slave."
Everyone in town knew Amelia had chased Jaxton for years, even etching his initials on her skin. When malicious rumors swarmed, he merely straightened his cuff links and ordered her to kneel before the woman he truly loved. Seething with realization, she slammed her engagement ring down on his desk and walked away. Not long after, she whispered "I do" to a billionaire, their wedding post crashing every feed. Panic cracked Jaxton. "She's using you to spite me," he spat. The billionaire just smiled. "Being her sword is my honor."
Hazel Queen had loved her husband with all her heart for three years. But the one thing she never saw coming was the cold, shocking truth: he wanted a divorce because his mistress was pregnant. Heartbroken and betrayed, Hazel decides to move on and returns to Queen Corp, where she steps into her true role as the powerful female president, worth hundreds of millions. This revelation shocks her ex-husband, Damon Price, who never knew that the woman he left behind was the mastermind behind the famous Queen Corp-the Heiress of the Queen family, who had supposedly died in a fire three years ago.
Season 1: Esther Davenier has spent her life proving she belongs-first to the elite family who raised her, then to a society that values bloodlines over loyalty. But when a long-lost "real" daughter is found, Esther is discarded like yesterday's scandal-her name erased, her face mocked, her engagement stolen. They thought they could bury her. But Esther doesn't go quietly. Armed with multiple powerful hidden identities and a dangerous new ally-CEO Evander Westvale, the man they said she could never have-Esther steps back into the limelight not to reclaim what was stolen, but to take what was never offered. Now she's more than ready to turn the game upside down. Season 2: When the powerful Davenier family reunites, Victor Davenier moves the Victory Group back to their homeland to spend more time with his daughter-Esther Davenier. Because of this, Roger Davenier, Esther's twin brother, finds himself buried in responsibilities, leaving no time for love-until a beautiful secretary, Alexandra, walks into his life uninvited and slowly pulls him closer. But Alexandra is caught between a protective mother hiding a dark past, a jealous rival determined to humiliate her, and a powerful client who sees her as more than just a secretary. Drawn into a dangerous game of power, desire, and betrayal, she must find her strength to survive. And Roger? He's no longer sure if he's protecting his secretary... or falling hopelessly in love with her.
My husband, Bennett, and I were New York's golden couple. But our perfect marriage was a lie, childless because of a rare genetic condition he claimed would kill any woman who carried his baby. When his dying father demanded an heir, Bennett proposed a solution: a surrogate. The woman he chose, Aria, was a younger, more vibrant version of me. Suddenly, Bennett was always busy, supporting her through "difficult IVF cycles." He missed my birthday. He forgot our anniversary. I tried to believe him, until I overheard him at a party. He confessed to his friends that his love for me was a "deep connection," but with Aria, it was "fire" and "exhilarating." He was planning a secret wedding with her in Lake Como, at the same villa he'd promised me for our anniversary. He was giving her a wedding, a family, a life—all the things he denied me, using a lie about a deadly genetic condition as his excuse. The betrayal was so complete it felt like a physical shock. When he came home that night, lying about a business trip, I smiled and played the part of the loving wife. He didn't know I'd heard everything. He didn't know that while he was planning his new life, I was already planning my escape. And he certainly didn't know I had just made a call to a service that specialized in one thing: making people disappear.
Abandoned as a child and orphaned by murder, Kathryn swore she'd reclaim every shred of her stolen birthright. When she returned, society called her an unpolished love-child, scoffing that Evan had lost his mind to marry her. Only Evan knew the truth: the quiet woman he cradled like porcelain hid secrets enough to set the city trembling. She doubled as a legendary healer, an elusive hacker, and the royal court's favorite perfumer. At meetings, the directors groaned at the lovey-dovey couple, "Does she really have to be here?" Evan shrugged. "Happy wife, happy life." Soon her masks fell, and those who sneered bowed in awe.
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