The Book of Months

Fiction & Literature, Psychological, Classics, Literary
Cover of the book The Book of Months by E. F. Benson, GOLDEN CLASSIC PRESS
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Author: E. F. Benson ISBN: 1230002942773
Publisher: GOLDEN CLASSIC PRESS Publication: November 28, 2018
Imprint: Language: English
Author: E. F. Benson
ISBN: 1230002942773
Publisher: GOLDEN CLASSIC PRESS
Publication: November 28, 2018
Imprint:
Language: English

*** Original and Unabridged Content. Made available by GOLDEN CLASSIC PRESS***

Synopsis:
Thick yellow fog, and in consequence electric light to dress by and breakfast by, was the open ing day of the year. Never, to anyone who looks at this fact in the right spirit, did a year dawn more characteristically. The denseness, the utter inscrutability of the face of that which should be, was never better typified. We blindly groped on the threshold of the future, feeling here for a bell handle, here for a knocker, while the door still stood shut. Then, about mid-day, sudden com motions shook the vapours; dim silhouettes of house-roofs, promised lands perhaps, or profiled wrecks, stood suddenly out against swirling orange Whirlpools of mist; and from my window, which commanded a double view up and down Oxford Street, I looked out over the crawling traffic, with an interest, as if in the unfolding of some dramatic.

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*** Original and Unabridged Content. Made available by GOLDEN CLASSIC PRESS***

Synopsis:
Thick yellow fog, and in consequence electric light to dress by and breakfast by, was the open ing day of the year. Never, to anyone who looks at this fact in the right spirit, did a year dawn more characteristically. The denseness, the utter inscrutability of the face of that which should be, was never better typified. We blindly groped on the threshold of the future, feeling here for a bell handle, here for a knocker, while the door still stood shut. Then, about mid-day, sudden com motions shook the vapours; dim silhouettes of house-roofs, promised lands perhaps, or profiled wrecks, stood suddenly out against swirling orange Whirlpools of mist; and from my window, which commanded a double view up and down Oxford Street, I looked out over the crawling traffic, with an interest, as if in the unfolding of some dramatic.

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