Rich men's children

The cold of foot-hill California in the month of January held the night. The occupants of the surrey were too cramped and stiffened by it, and too uncomfortably enwrapped agains...

That same evening, at the hour when Bill Cannon and his daughter were setting out from Rocky Bar, Dominick Ryan was walking up Van Ness Avenue toward his mother’s house.

He walked for nearly an hour, along quiet, lamp-lit streets where large houses fronted on gardens that exhaled moist earth scents and the breaths of sweet, unseen blossoms, up h...

When Rose Cannon woke on the morning after her arrival at Antelope, a memory of the snowflakes of the evening before made her jump out of bed and patter barefooted to the window...

When Dominick returned to consciousness he lay for a space looking directly in front of him, then moved his head and let his eyes sweep the walls. They were alien walls of white...

The morning after the quarrel Bernice woke late. She had not fallen asleep till the night was well spent, the heated seething of her rage keeping the peace of repose far from he...

While the world went about its affairs, attended to its business, read its papers, sent its telegrams and wrote its letters, the little group at Antelope was as completely cut o...

The ten days that followed were among the most important of Dominick Ryan’s life. Looking back at them he wondered that he had been so blind to the transformation of his being w...

It was at the end of the Bonanza times, that period of startling upheavals and downfalls, when miners had suddenly become millionaires, and rich men found themselves paupers, th...

Three days after the return of the Cannons, Dominick Ryan also came home. He had answered Berny’s letter the day the Cannons left, a few hours after that interview with the Bona...

On the second Sunday after their return from Antelope, Bill Cannon resolved to dedicate the afternoon to paying calls. This, at least, was what he told his daughter at luncheon...

It was near eleven o’clock on that same Sunday morning, when Berny, wrappered and heavy-eyed, emerged from her room. She shuffled down the passage to the dining-room, sending he...

The conversation with her old friend had upset Mrs. Ryan. These were grievances she did not talk of to all the world, and the luxury of such plain speaking was paid for by a re-...

Two days after this momentous combination of her enemies, Berny was sitting in the parlor of her flat, writing a letter. It was three o’clock in the afternoon and she had just d...

A few nights after this, there was a full moon. Dominick, walking home from the bank, saw it at the end of the street’s vista, a large, yellowish-pink disk floating up into the...

Every summer afternoon the trade winds blow through San Francisco, winging their way across miles of chill, salt sea, and striking the bulwarked city with a boisterous impact. T...

Berny was extremely unsettled. She had never been in such a condition of worry and indecision. She was at once depressed and elated, triumphant and cast down, all in a bubble of...

In his “Klondike Monologue” at the Orpheum, Buford, the actor, made a sudden and unexpected hit. The morning after his first appearance, both Dominick and Berny read in the pape...

The following Sunday, at ten o’clock in the morning, Dominick noiselessly descended the stairs of the flat and let himself out into the street. He had had a sleepless night, and...

Berny had been turning over in her mind the advantages of accepting the money--had been letting herself dwell upon the delights of possible possession--when at the Sunday dinner...

It was late, almost dark, that evening when Cannon left his office. He had sat on after Berny’s departure, sunk in a reverie, which was not compounded of those gentle thoughts t...

That night it was Berny’s turn to be wakeful. In the silence of the sleeping house and the warm darkness of her curtained room, she lay tossing on her bed, hearing the clear, mu...

It was dark when Rose reached home. She had walked rapidly, mechanically taking familiar turns, cresting the long slope of the hill at a panting speed, rounding corners where gu...

For some time after Rose had left her, Berny remained on the bench, not moving, her glance resting on that part of the path whence the young girl’s figure had faded from view.

The afternoon of the next day Dominick came home earlier than usual. His New York friend, who was en route to Japan, had but a couple of days in San Francisco, and again claimed...

The night was falling when Buford left. He and Dominick had sat on in the den, talking together in low voices, going over past events in the concatenation of circumstances that...

As soon as Berny had left his office Bill Cannon wrote a note to Mrs. Ryan, telling her of the interview he had just had with her daughter-in-law. He did not mention the check,...