A Furnace of Earth

At the tone Margaret started in uncontrollable excitement. An inarticulate cry broke from her. She ran to the foot of the bed, and, her fingers straining on the bars, gazed with...

“You may believe it, understand. But you gloss over the other side. The general opinion is that ‘bodily’ isn’t a nice word to use when we discuss love. You and I, as physicians,...

To Margaret, in the untiring challenge of her self-questionings, his view brought an unworded solace. Her mind grasped eagerly at his thought, puzzled by itself, yet reaching fo...

The crying incompletion, the negative hollowness of it, had smote her. His full life had stopped, like a sluggish stream. His vitality, his energies, could not go ahead. He was...

She had almost a fear to venture beyond the shelter of this cheerless home--a fear of what she longed for unspeakably and as unspeakably dreaded. She told herself that Daunt was...

“A man somewhat tall and comely, his hair the color of a ripe chestnut, curling and waving.” The description recurred to her, not as though written to the Roman Senate by Lentul...

He was probably at that moment lying on the floor of the baggage-car, amid a litter of trunks and bags. Men were bending over him to see if he lived or died. Five minutes ago he...

Along the wavering path which followed the twisting summit of the cliffs toiled a little figure. His face was tanned, and from under a brown tangle of hair looked eyes blue and...

“You are not for such a sacrifice, Margaret,” he said sadly. “I am not such a coward. You are a woman--a perfect, beautiful woman--the kind that God made all happiness for.”