Derelicts

Seeing Yvonne at that time of the morning was out of the question. But he penetrated to the landing outside the ward and had a few words with the sister in charge. She was a fre...

Joyce rose from the cane-bottomed chair on which he had been sitting, and followed the clerk through the busy outer office into the private room beyond. An elderly man in gold s...

But the best laid schemes of Yvonnes and men often come to nothing. While she was devising, on her drive along the coast, a plan for spending a quiet dangerless evening at the h...

If he had been a strong man he would not have yielded to the series of temptations that had culminated in his crime and his disgrace. Or, passing that, his spirit would not have...

They buried Noakes on the other side of the _kopje_ behind the house. He had lasted through the winter and early spring, but the season of the rains and heat, when the damp ooze...

They lived together four months, Yvonne in her comfortable rooms, Joyce in his attic overhead. At first she had been helpless, requiring much aid both from Joyce and from the la...

Ostend is a magnificent white Kursaal on the Belgian coast. Certain requisites are attached to it in the way of great hotels and villas along a tiled _digue_, and innumerable ba...

There’s nothing like leather,” cried Yvonne, gaily. “If I had been a milliner, I should have thought what a gentlemanly shopwalker you would have made. As I am a singer, I can o...

If genius is mad, sensitiveness degenerate, and emotionality neurotic, and if heredity is the determining principle in the causation of character, comparative psychology enables...

He could walk no longer through the drizzling rain, in futile struggle with his soul’s needs. As possible to cut out his heart and fling it at Everard’s feet as to surrender Yvo...

It was the first Monday in August, and his beat was not a lively one. Curiosity had attracted him toward the sitting figure, and the social instinct prompted conversation. Recei...

The autumn hardened into winter and the winter softened into spring, and the relations between Yvonne and the Canon seemed to follow the seasons’ difference. He had learned her...

While Joyce was straining his eyes through the darkness for the last sight of land and eating out his heart in bitter regrets, Yvonne was busily engaged at Fulminster in rehears...

Two weeks passed and Joyce found himself in Hull. During the previous week Miss Stevens had lodged quite near to the theatre, and there had been no occasion for his escort after...

It was night. Yvonne lay wide awake. A suffused sound of breathing filled the air. Now and then a moan or a smothered cry of pain broke sharply upon the stillness. The woman in...

The common dressing-room appointed for the male members of the chorus was crowded with half-attired men, strangely painted and moustachioed. The low, blackened ceiling beat down...

“Yes, he is dead,” said the Bishop, gravely. “You are a free woman. I have come from the other end of the world to tell you so.” Yvonne, sitting opposite him, looked into the re...

She was finishing “The Wasters,” Joyce’s lately published novel. It was not a success. Its cultivated style received recognition everywhere, but the unrelieved pessimism, powerf...

For all the change about him and within him, the hand of time might have been put back four years, and the tender might have been nearing the outward bound ship, instead of the...

It was late in the afternoon. The old man had gone away to Exeter, to bury his sister, his only surviving relative. Joyce was alone in the shop busily sorting a job lot of books...

So Yvonne was married, and for six months was completely happy. Fulminster and the county entertained her, and she entertained Fulminster and the county. Her husband petted her...

At the railway station the next afternoon he found most of the company already assembled on the platform. Curious glances were cast upon him as he appeared; there were nudgings...

That evening Yvonne was standing by the door of a concert-hall, as her friend and fellow-artist Vandeleur adjusted a red wrap round her shoulders. He was a burly, pudding-faced...