>

黄色视频网,性av网址大全,久久er99热这里只是精品,亚洲青色

时间: 2019年12月11日 09:55

� Chapter 12 On Novels and the Art of Writing Them 鈥榃ell, I鈥檝e never enjoyed an hour鈥檚 chat more,鈥?she said, as Keeling returned after seeing their guests off, 鈥榓nd it seemed no more than five minutes. She was all affability, wasn鈥檛 she, Alice? and so full of admiration for all my鈥攚hat did she call them? Some French word.鈥? 鈥榊es, that will do.鈥? Tales of All Countries--2d 1863 CHAPTER II 黄色视频网,性av网址大全,久久er99热这里只是精品,亚洲青色 At this time there was nothing in the success of the one or the failure of the other to affect me very greatly. The immediate sale, and the notices elicited from the critics, and the feeling which had now come to me of a confident standing with the publishers, all made me know that I had achieved my object. If I wrote a novel, I could certainly sell it. And if I could publish three in two years 鈥?confining myself to half the fecundity of that terrible author of whom the publisher in Paternoster Row had complained to me 鈥?I might add 锟?00 a year to my official income. I was still living in Ireland, and could keep a good house over my head, insure my life, educate my two boys, and hunt perhaps twice a week, on 锟?400 a year. If more should come, it would be well 鈥?but 锟?00 a year I was prepared to reckon as success. It had been slow in coming, but was very pleasant when it came. Alice looked not at him as she said these remarkable words but at the pink clock on the chimney-piece. She had the recklessness of physical weakness in her, she did not care what happened, if only one thing happened. If he would not take that lure, she was quite prepared to try him with another. � 鈥淚 grant it,鈥?said I; 鈥渋t might possibly, however, be found to be telling the truth in a low key, and falsehood in a loud one; besides, I should be afraid that many people might not have sufficient presence of mind to avail themselves of these methods.鈥? To the left of the Gothic and inner halls, a very large room had been built out to the demolition of a laurel shrubbery. This was Mr Keeling鈥檚 study, and when he gave his house over to the taste of his decorators, he made the stipulation that they should not exercise their artistic faculties{17} therein, but leave it entirely to him. In fact, there had been a short and violent scene of ejection when the card-holding crocodile had appeared on a table there owing to the inadvertence of a house-maid, for Mr Keeling had thrown it out of the window on to the carriage sweep, and one of its hind legs had to be repaired. Here for furniture he had a gray drugget on the floor, a couple of easy chairs, half a dozen deal ones, an immense table and a step-ladder, while the wall space was entirely taken up with book shelves. These were but as yet half-filled, and stacks of books, some still in the parcels in which they had arrived from dealers and publishers, stood on the floor. This room with its books was Mr Keeling鈥檚 secret romance: all his life, even from the days of the fish-shop, the collection of fine illustrated books had been his hobby, his hortus inclusus, where lay his escape from the eternal pursuit of money-making and from the tedium of domestic life. There he indulged his undeveloped love of the romance of literature, and the untutored joy with which design of line and colour inspired him. As an apostle of thoroughness in business and everything else, his books must be as well equipped as books could be: there must be fine bindings, the best paper and printing, and above all there must be pictures. When that was done you might say you had got a book. For rarity and antiquity he cared nothing at all; a sumptuous edition of a book{18} of nursery rhymes was more desirable in his eyes than any Caxton. Here in his hard, industrious, Puritan life, was Keeling鈥檚 secret garden, of which none of his family held the key. Few at all entered the room, and into the spirit of it none except perhaps the young man who was at the head of the book department at Keeling鈥檚 stores. He had often been of use to the proprietor in pointing out to him the publication of some new edition he might wish to possess, and now and then, as on this particular Sunday afternoon, he was invited to spend an hour at the house looking over Mr Keeling鈥檚 latest purchases. He came, of course, by the back door, and was conducted by the boy in buttons along the servants鈥?passage, for Mrs Keeling would certainly not like to have the front door opened to him. That would have been far from proper, and he might have put his hat on one of the brass-tipped chamois horns. But there was no real danger of that, for it had never occurred to Charles Propert to approach 鈥楾he Cedars鈥?by any but the tradesman鈥檚 entrance.