... SHORT STORY ) / ' (‘ t ...

... SHORT STORY TTHERE have not been many children with such yellow hair as Ursula Wortley's. It was dmded over her forehead in tw o like halves of a Hesperidan app*.e. and stretched tight and metallic behind her tam and twisted into two tlght at the back ...

... Short Story the living-room. Her mother sat on a straight-backed chair near the table. In the gas-light she looked incredibly old. Her face was yellow and deeply wrinkled, like cracked parchment. She wore a black dress that completely covered her from ...

... Short Story TO the millions of Germans who are anti-Nazi and who cannot appeal or write freely to us, one of the chief discouragements must be the readiness with which the outside world has accepted Hitler and Nazism as permanent and representative of ...

... Short Story appears on this page today. But, although fiction, it describes events that are tragically true, happening at this moment less than 1,000 miles ...

... THE SHORT STORY. LECTURE BY MR. WEDMOB& ToI an address3 delivered last a caning to the Society of' I Womeni JoumnaLets and a tisguiswed c'mnpaaF, I lnrd }'rooeriek Hamilton mi the chair, Mr. Irede-iek Wedmore discussed the chmaeteristis of the Short Story ...

... SHORT STORY Every detail of what had happened was clear to his mind, and that being so, didn't it follow that he would also have remembered if he had kicked up any sort of row ? No, the truth was that Sarah, in her suspicious way, had been listening at ...

... SHORT STORY first fogs, John sent her to the south. Would she go this year, knowing that when she came back she was still to be alone? . Wait! Here came a taxi. John would be certain to have taken a taxi now that he was so late. It was slowing down. In ...

... Short Story which I did, and won: and won it ten times over again, too. The stick spoke ? said I incredulously. The little man seemed half delirious: his tobacco-stained moustache was all wisped in the rain, and his pale rabbit-face flushed. Spoke ...

... SHORT STORY he was called—had come out on the ‘. steps. He looked big and stern. . We only wanted to see the Jesox. Marianne stammered. Oh, is that all. he said In a friendly tone. All right. if you think that's any fun. He never h Arts anyboO. ...

... The Short Story. • The Ivory Ood/' J. S. Fletcher. John Murray. 6a. We hope that Mr. is not going to give up novel-writing for short story-writing, for there are many moie people who can «iual him in this lattei b.*anch literature tJian in the fonner ...

... SHORT STORY: heat! The air seemed literally sizzling—he gould almost see it rising from 'the stones and the bricks. Not yet, said Mrs. Wellesley. Look, I want to stop here and buy some flowers. I have bought flowers here so many times—ah I you see ...