Pierre Auguste Renoir Sleeping Girl painting

Pierre Auguste Renoir Sleeping Girl paintingPierre Auguste Renoir Dance at Bougival I paintingThomas Kinkade The Garden of Prayer painting
month ... two months ...”
They had finished Bleak House and were nearing the end of Dombey and Son when the rain came.
“Now it is time to make preparations to go.”
“Oh, that is impossible. The Indians will not make a boat during the rainy season—it is one of their superstitions.”
“You might have told me.”
“Did I not mention it? I forgot.”
Next morning Henty went out alone while his host was busy, and, looking as aimless as he could, strolled across the savannah to the group of Indian houses. There were four or five Shirianas sitting in one of the doorways. They did not look up as he approached them. He addressed them in the few words of Maku he had acquired during the journey but they made no sign whether they understood him or not. Then he drew a sketch of a canoe in the sand, he went through some vague motions of carpentry, pointed from them to him, then made motions of giving something to them and scratched out the outlines of a gun and a hat and a few other recognizable articles of trade. One of the women giggled, but

Winslow Homer The Houses of Parliament painting

Winslow Homer The Houses of Parliament paintingWinslow Homer The Gulf Stream paintingWinslow Homer Children on the Beach painting
All he said was: “I had a sort of feeling that this was all too good to last.”
The lawyer duly arrived. He seemed displeased that neither of us was dressed. He intimated that he wished to speak to me alone.
His Grace, he said, had altered his plans for his grandson. He no longer wished him to go abroad. Of course, between ourselves we had to admit that the boy was not quite sane ... very sad ... these old families ... putting me in such a difficult position in case anything happened..... His Grace had talked it over with Lady Emily and Lady Gertrude..... It really was too dangerous an experiment ... besides, they had especially kept the boy shut away because they did not want the world to know ... discredit on a great name ... and, of course, if he went about, people were bound to talk. It was not strictly his discuss the wisdom of his client’s decision, but, again between ourselves, he had been

Francois Boucher Madame de Pompadour painting

Francois Boucher Madame de Pompadour paintingFrancois Boucher Adoration of the Shepherds paintingJohannes Vermeer The Concert painting
to reciprocation. Love me? I didn't love myself!
But I got no further than her name, at sound whereof she opened to me her fine clear eyes. They gave back my image, luminous, and another shadow disappeared -- the last but one.
"Show me the way to the Belly, Anastasia."
She understood, evidently, that the lobby-lifts were under guard, and that in any case we could not resummon the elevator Bray had used. My hope was that like the nameless Information-girl, she would know of a hidden stair or other seldom-used route: her "mother," after all, had worked in Tower Hall throughout her adult life. But under this hope and conjecture was a certain knowledge, in view whereof I directed instead of asking her. She paled a little, then quietly got up. We went through the trap-door and down the ladder and stairs to the bottom landing -- one level below the Circulation Room, but still a long way from the Belly. Taking my hand then, she led me through a low door into a maze of unlit bookstacks, through which she threaded as surely as if she dwelt there. More than once our way was barred by locked mesh doors, increasingly formidable,

Claude Monet Bridge over a Pool of Water Lilies painting

Claude Monet Bridge over a Pool of Water Lilies paintingMichael Austin The Black Drape paintingMichael Austin Michael Austin Red Dress painting
I had come from Great Mall rapidly enough; returning, we fairly flew, by every trick and short-cut in the book: crossed through woods and fields and private lawns, took corners without a pause and stop-signs at full throttle. As if energized by our speed, Stoker resumed his usual baiting and other stratagems.
"So you still want to be Grand Tutor!" he shouted. "Now's the time to make your play, while Rexford's out of commission and everything's upset!"
I smiled.
"Why not work together?" he suggested, and outlined at the top of his voice a plan for "taking over the ": the Chancellor was in political disgrace and therefore vulnerable; only some extraordinary stroke of fortune -- such as absolute Commencement by an undisputed Grand Tutor -- might redeem his public image; but if Stoker himself had been disgusted by Rexford's conduct in the Living Room, surely Bray would be

The Black Clock

The Black ClockStill Life with OnionsPaul Cezanne Poplar Trees
It's for Miss Sally Ann's sake you have to," I said; "for the sake of all the patients. I want this floozy out in the Powerhouse where she belongs, so she won't take advantage of helpless people. Do you think you'll be okay with her?"
Anastasia saw my motive and protested.
"I'll be okay," Greene said, and wiped his palms grimly on his trouser-thighs.
"No, please, George. . ." said Anastasia.
"She may try to seduce you," I warned him, for her benefit. "She's awfully aggressive. Not like her sister."
"George. . ."
With a fierce squint Greene took her arm. "You come along with me. Don't try to flooze me none, neither."
More gently I took my mother's elbow; clucking and smiling, she bagged her yarn and obediently rose.
"At least give me a minute to fix myhair!" Anastasia said. Her tone had changed, was newly resolute and guileful, as was her face. I surmised, not without mixed feelings, that what had been at odds -- her wish to assert herself as I'd advised and her wish to go to

Horace Vernet paintings

Horace Vernet paintings
Irene Sheri paintings
Ivan Constantinovich Aivazovsky paintings
He would not, until I accused him of trying mistakenly to flunk me because he mistakenly believed in my Grand-Tutorhood -- "As if you weren't right!" I added with a chuckle, just in case. He slowed down, perhaps only to deliberate, but when I jumped off he stopped the engine and waited, a-scowl and a-twitch.
"Help!" Ira Hector called. But I went directly to The Living Sakhyan, squatted before Him in His wise, and unpursed my chewed Assignment.
"Robbery!" Ira cried.
"Excuse me, sir," I said to The Living Sakhyan. "I want to thank You for the disappeared ink You gave me some terms ago, and apologize for criticizing You before."
His expression did not change, nor did He give any other indication of having heard me. Except for His smile, and my vast new understanding, I might have thought Him dead.
"Help me, Goat-Boy!" Ira shrieked.
"I know this sounds foolish," I went on, "but I actually used to thinkIwas the Grand

Thomas Kinkade The Garden of Prayer painting

Thomas Kinkade The Garden of Prayer paintingThomas Kinkade Stairway to Paradise paintingThomas Kinkade Spirit of Christmas painting
twenty-some years ago." In other words, Anastasia was an orphan, born to some luckless co-ed, left for adoption at the New Tammany Lying-in. When my disappearance from the tape-lift, and G. Herrold's garbled talk of finding a baby in the Belly, had led Reginald Hector to fear that his plan had misfired, he'd judged the scandal of illicit less dangerous than that of infanticide, actual or attempted. The fortunate coincidence of Dr. Mayo's death at about that same time had made it possible to enter on the records that Virginia Hector had borne a daughter, Anastasia -- whom Ira raised when Virginia refused to. Scandal there'd been, when the news gradually became known, but on the whole it had not much damaged the public image of Reginald Hector; people pitied him and censured Virginia (a double injustice of which he seemed yet oblivious), whose subsequent deterioration they were pleased to regard as her due; Max was got rid of, the Cum Laude Project quietly scrapped, and Eblis Eierkopf demoted to less sensitive researches. Anastasia had proved a delightful grandchild, and but for an occasional nagging fear that the GILES had not really perished (if the baby hadbeen the GILES), Reginald Hector had put the unpleasant episode out of mind -- until yesterday, when it had suddenly come back to haunt him.