ArticleField.comInternet's Fastest Growing Free Content Article DirectoryFor him, there was ‘none like Charles Critchlow.’ The two old friends experienced a sort of grim, desiccated happiness, cooped up together in the bedroom, secure from women and fools generally. How they spent the time did not seem to be certainly known, but the impression was that politics occupied them. Undoubtedly Mr. Critchlow was […]
She turned to the right, passed along the corridor by the cutting-out room, up two steps into the sheeted and shuttered gloom of the closed shop, up the showroom stairs, through the showroom, and so into the bedroom corridor. Experience had proved it easier to make this long detour than to round the difficult corner […]
Just then a hawker passed down King Street, crying mussels and cockles. "Oh!" Sophia almost shrieked. "Do let’s have mussels and cockles for tea!" And she rushed to the door, and unlocked and opened it, regardless of the risk of draughts to Mr. Povey. In those days people often depended upon the caprices of hawkers […]
Mr. Povey was certainly asleep, and his mouth was very wide open– like a shop-door. The only question was whether his sleep was not an eternal sleep; the only question was whether he was not out of his pain for ever. Then he snored–horribly; his snore seemed a portent of disaster. Sophia approached him as […]
The expectation of beneficent laudanum had enlivened Mr. Povey, had already, indeed, by a sort of suggestion, half cured his toothache. "Oh no!" he said. "No need to ask Mr. Critchlow … Two or three drops in a little water." He showed impatience to be at the laudanum. The girls knew that an antipathy existed […]
