The Old Castle and Other Stories
Category: Author:novel
To be sure it was November, and the wind was setting the poor dyingleaves in a miserable shiver with some dreadful story of an iceberg hehad just been visiting.
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Category: Author:novel
To be sure it was November, and the wind was setting the poor dyingleaves in a miserable shiver with some dreadful story of an iceberg hehad just been visiting.
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Category: Author:J. M. Barrie
Early this morning I opened a window in my school-house in the glen of Quharity, awakened by the shivering of a starving sparrow against the frosted glass.
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Category: Author:Joseph A. Altsheler
A light wind sang through the foliage, turned to varying and vivid hues now by the touch of autumn, and it had an edge of cold that made Robert Lennox shiver a little, despite a hardy life in wilderness and open. But it was only a passing feeling. A moment or two later he forgot it, and, turning his eyes to the west, watched the ...
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Category: Author:novel
It was the Highway of Lost Men. They shivered, and drew their shoulders together as they walked, for it was night, and a cold, sleety rain was falling. The lights from saloons and pawn-shops fell upon their faces—faces haggard and gaunt with misery, or bloated with disease and sin. Some stared before them fixedly; some gaze...
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Category: Author:novel
A brilliant light streamed from the open doorway of No. 1, Lytton Avenue, making a lane of flame across the pavement, touching pinched gaunt faces that formed a striking contrast to the dazzling scene within. Outside it was cold and wet and sodden, inside was warmth, the glitter of electrics on palms and statuary and flowers, a sliding...
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Category: Author:novel
“Humph! I wonder where in the name of pulverized pups that young Slick-and-Slippery took himself. He sure knew how to cover his trail up good and pronto.” It wasn’t the unseasonable weather that made Bob Caldwell shiver slightly as he glanced ahead at the deserted ranch which was rolling toward him. It was the recollection of that day,...
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Category: Author:novel
A wet Sunday--dreary, dismal, and infinitely sloppy. Even the bells ringing the people into evening service seemed to feel the depressing influence of the weather, and their brazen voices sounded hoarse and grumbling, as if they rang under protest. Cold, too!--not a brisk sharp frost--for here in Melbourne frost and snow are unknown; b...
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Category: Author:novel
MARCH had come in like a lion, and showed no sign of going out like a lamb. The pussy willows knew that it was, or ought to be, spring, but although it takes a deal to discourage a New England pussy willow, they shivered in their brown skins and despaired of making their annual appearance even by April Fool’s Hay.
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