For half an hour there had been perfect silence in the room. The cat upon the hearthrug slept profoundly; the fire was sunk to a still red glow; the cold light of the autumn afternoon thickened into dusk. Lilian seemed to be reading. She sat on a footstool, her arm resting on the seat of a basket-chair, which supported a large open volume. But her ...Read MoreFor half an hour there had been perfect silence in the room. The cat upon the hearthrug slept profoundly; the fire was sunk to a still red glow; the cold light of the autumn afternoon thickened into dusk. Lilian seemed to be reading. She sat on a footstool, her arm resting on the seat of a basket-chair, which supported a large open volume. But her hand was never raised to turn a page, and it was long since her eyes had gathered the sense of the lines on which they were fixed. This attitude had been a favourite one with her in childhood, and nowadays, in her long hours of solitude, she often fell into the old habit. It was a way of inviting reverie, which was a way of passing the time. She stirred at length; glanced at the windows, at the fire, and rose. A pleasant little sitting-room, furnished in the taste of our time; with harmonies and contrasts of subdued colour, with pictures intelligently chosen, with store of graceful knick-knacks. Lilian's person was in keeping with such a background; her dark gold hair, her pale, pensive, youthful features, her slight figure in its loose raiment, could not have been more suitably displayed. In a room of statelier proportions she would have looked too frail, too young for significance; out of doors she was seldom seen to advantage; here one recognized her as the presiding spirit in a home fragrant of womanhood. The face, at this moment, was a sad one, but its lines expressed no weak surrender to dolefulness; her lips were courageous, and her eyes such as brighten readily with joy. A small table bore a tea-tray with a kettle and spirit-lamp; the service for two persons only. Lilian, after looking at her watch, ignited the lamp and then went to the window as if in expectation of some one's arrival.Read Less
Good. Gissing, George. DENZIL QUARRIER. New York: Macmillan and Co., 1892. 308p, decorated cloth, covers worn and soiled, hinges starting, typewritten list of books by Gissing tipped to endpaper, good. 1st American edition. Signed by the American author and critic Leon H. Vincent, with his bookplate.
Good. Hardcover. 8vo-over 7¾"-9¾" tall. FIRST AMER. EDITION, first printing. Full brown cloth with dark brown design on the front cover and spine, gilt lettering on the spine, black lettering on the front cover, lightly soiled. Light wear. Splitting to the endpapers at the gutter. Binding still firm. No previous owner's names, not exlibrary. Overall in GOOD condition. Photos available upon request. George Robert Gissing (22 November 1857 ¿ 28 December 1903) was an English novelist who wrote twenty-three novels between 1880 and 1903. From his early naturalistic works, he developed into one of the most accomplished realists of the late-Victorian era.
LIGHT RUBBING TO SPINE ENDS & CORNERS; SM. flaw AT BOTTOM FRONT BOARD; P. O. 'S NAME INSIDE FRONT BOARD; ALL ELSE-CLEAN, TIGHT, & ATTRACTIVE. 8 vo; tan boards with red decorations & lettering; 308 pps. includes 8 pps. of ads for other books by the publisher.
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