A Butterfly on the Wheel: A Novel

One morning upon a dull day in the late summer of the same year in which Mrs. Admaston had stayed at the Hotel des Tuileries in Paris, Colonel Adams came down to breakfast at th...

The Morris and aesthetic conventions were entirely ignored in it. There were no soft greys or greens, no patterns of pomegranates, no brown and pleasing sombreness. The room exp...

The windows of Mrs. Admaston's sitting-room were open, and a delightfully scented air, from the lilac blossoms and all the flowers of the gardens in the Tuileries, flooded and f...

Mrs. Admaston pulled aside the long curtains of green silk. She turned the oblong handle which released two of the windows, pulled it towards her, and drank in the fresh night air.

Mrs. Admaston's sitting-room at the Hotel des Tuileries was a large and beautiful apartment, one of the best in the hotel. Save for the long French windows, which were now, at m...

He dropped the paper, sprang to his feet as if someone had struck him, while his face grew absolutely white and the little mouth became a round "O" of consternation and alarm.

Beyond the facade of the hotel the gardens of the Tuileries were sleeping in the warm night. To the left the Louvre etched itself in solid black against the sky, and all up and...

Innumerable motor broughams and private carriages were waiting in Fleet Street, and despite the dullness of the afternoon the eager photographers of the illustrated papers were...