George Manville Fenn: 365 books

Tom Blount said this to himself as he balanced that self upon a high stool at a desk in his uncle’s office in Gray’s Inn. There was a big book lying open, one which he had to study, but it did not interest him; and though he tried very hard to keep his attention fixed upon its learned words, invaluable...

“Well, yes, sir,” said the man addressed, about as ugly a specimen of humanity as could be met in a day’s march, for he had only one eye, and beneath that a peculiar, puckered scar extending down to the corner of his mouth, shaggy short hair, neither black nor grey—a kind of pepper-and-salt...

The Captain was having his after-dinner nap when Nic took down one of the rods which always hung ready in the hall, glanced at the fly to see if it was all right, and then crossed the garden to the fields. He turned off towards the river, from which, deep down in the lovely combe, came a low, murmurous,...

“Coming, father!” shouted the lad, leaping up, giving himself a shake to rearrange his dark green kilt, and holding up his fist threateningly at the bare-legged, grinning lad before him. “Just you wait till after breakfast, Master Scood, and I’ll make you squint.” The lad ran up the steep...

Armstrong Dale walked up and down his grim-looking, soot-smudged studio, as if he had determined to wear a track on one side similar to that made by a wild beast in his cage. “I won’t go again,” he said; “it’s a kind of madness. Heavens! how beautiful she is! And that man—that wretched,...

Steve Young, who was walking first, suddenly stooped down and took up a handful of sand, which was so hot, fine, and dry that it began to trickle between his fingers like that in the kitchen egg-boiler at home, as he trotted softly to the edge of the wharf and looked over, to find exactly what he...