Recently added books

Little Eve Edgarton

Creator: Abbott, Eleanor Hallowell, 1872-1958
Translator: -
Contributor: -
Editor: -


Brand new books:


And I'm so late I haven't even time to change my clothes! We got struck by lightning," she added purely incidentally. "That is--sort of struck by lightning. That is, Mr. Barton got sort of struck by lightning. And oh, glory, Father!" her voice kindled a little. "And, oh, glory, Father, I thought he was gone! Twice in the hours I was working over him he stopped breathing altogether!" Palpably the vigor died out of her voice again. "Father," she drawled mumblingly through intermittent flops of bath-towel; "Father--you said I could keep the next thing I--saved. Do you think I could--keep him?" CHAPTER III "What?" demanded her father. Altogether unexpectedly little Eve Edgarton threw back her tousled head and burst out laughing. "Oh, Father!" she jeered. "Can't you take a joke?" "I don't know as you ever offered me one before," growled her father a
Ghosts

GHOSTS by Henrik Ibsen Translated, with an Introduction, by William Archer INTRODUCTION. The winter of 1879-80 Ibsen spent in Munich, and the greater part of the summer of 1880 at Berchtesgaden. November 1880 saw him back in Rome, and he passed the summer of 1881 at Sorrento. There, fourteen years earlier, he had written the last acts of _Peer Gynt_; there he now wrote, or at any rate completed, _Gengangere_. It was published in December 1881, after he had returned to Rome. On December 22 he wrote to Ludwig Passarge, one of his German translators, "My new play has now appeared, and has occasioned a terrible uproar in the Scandinavian press; every day I receive letters and newspaper articles decrying or praising it. ... I consider it utterly impossible that any German theatre will accept the play at present. I hardly believe that they will dare to play it in the Scandinavian countries for some time to come." How
bit ungraciously. "All the same," asserted little Eve Edgarton with sudden seriousness--"all the same, Father, he did stop breathing twice. And I worked and I worked and I worked over him!" Slowly her great eyes widened. "And oh, Father, his skin!" she whispered simply. "Hush!" snapped her father with a great gust of resentment that he took to be a gust of propriety. "Hush, I say! I tell you it isn't delicate for a--for a girl to talk about a man's skin!" "Oh--but his skin was very delicate," mused little Eve Edgarton persistently. "There in the lantern light--" "What lantern light?" demanded her father. "And the moonlight," murmured little Eve Edgarton. "What moonlight?" demanded her father. A trifle quizzically he stepped forward and peered into his daughter's face. "Personally, Eve," he said, "I don't care for the young man. And I certainly don't wish to hear anything about his skin. Not anything! Do you understand? I'm very glad you saved his life," he hastened to affirm. "It was very commendable of you, I'm sure, and some one, doubtless, will be very