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Edith Wharton

Short stories : The Reckoning by Edith Wharton

The Reckoning by Edith Wharton   I “The marriage law of the new dispensation will be: THOU SHALT NOT BE UNFAITHFUL — TO THYSELF.” A discreet murmur of approval filled the studio, and through the haze of cigarette smoke Mrs. …

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Short stories : The Quicksand by Edith Wharton

The Quicksand by Edith Wharton   I AS Mrs. Quentin’s victoria, driving homeward, turned from the Park into Fifth Avenue, she divined her son’s tall figure walking ahead of her in the twilight. His long stride covered the ground more …

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Short stories : The Pretext by Edith Wharton

The Pretext by Edith Wharton   I MRS. RANSOM, when the front door had closed on her visitor, passed with a spring from the drawing-room to the narrow hall, and thence up the narrow stairs to her bedroom. Though slender, …

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Short stories : The Pot-Boiler by Edith Wharton

The Pot-Boiler by Edith Wharton   I The studio faced north, looking out over a dismal reach of roofs and chimneys, and rusty fire-escapes hung with heterogeneous garments. A crust of dirty snow covered the level surfaces, and a December …

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Short stories : The Portrait by Edith Wharton

The Portrait by Edith Wharton   It was at Mrs. Mellish’s, one Sunday afternoon last spring. We were talking over George Lillo’s portraits–a collection of them was being shown at Durand-Ruel’s–and a pretty woman had emphatically declared:– “Nothing on earth …

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Short stories : The Pelican by Edith Wharton

  The Pelican by Edith Wharton She was very pretty when I first knew her, with the sweet straight nose and short upper lip of the cameo-brooch divinity, humanized by a dimple that flowered in her cheek whenever anything was …

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Short stories : The Dilettante by Edith Wharton

The Dilettante by Edith Wharton It was on an impulse hardly needing the arguments he found himself advancing in its favor, that Thursdale, on his way to the club, turned as usual into Mrs. Vervain’s street. The “as usual” was …

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Short stories : The Choice by Edith Wharton

The Choice by Edith Wharton I Stilling, that night after dinner, had surpassed himself. He always did, Wrayford reflected, when the small fry from Highfield came to dine. He, Cobham Stilling, who had to find his bearings and keep to …

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Short stories : The Bolted Door by Edith Wharton

The Bolted Door by Edith Wharton I Hubert Granice, pacing the length of his pleasant lamp-lit library, paused to compare his watch with the clock on the chimney-piece. Three minutes to eight. In exactly three minutes Mr. Peter Ascham, of …

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Short stories : The Best Man by Edith Wharton

The Best Man by Edith Wharton I DUSK had fallen, and the circle of light shed by the lamp of Governor Mornway’s writing-table just rescued from the surrounding dimness his own imposing bulk, thrown back in a deep chair in …

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Short stories : Souls Belated by Edith Wharton

Souls Belated by Edith Wharton I Their railway carriage had been full when the train left Bologna; but at the first station beyond Milan their only remaining companion a courtly person who ate garlic out of a carpetbag had left …

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