{"product_id":"2940013768963","title":"The Damned and Other Stories","description":"'I'm over forty, Frances, and rather set in my ways,' I said good-\u003cbr\u003enaturedly, ready to yield if she insisted that our going together on\u003cbr\u003ethe visit involved her happiness. 'My work is rather heavy just now\u003cbr\u003etoo, as you know. The question is, could I work there--with a lot of\u003cbr\u003eunassorted people in the house?'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'Mabel doesn't mention any other people, Bill,' was my sister's\u003cbr\u003erejoinder. 'I gather she's alone--as well as lonely.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBy the way she looked sideways out of the window at nothing, it was\u003cbr\u003eobvious she was disappointed, but to my surprise she did not urge the\u003cbr\u003epoint; and as I glanced at Mrs. Franklyn's invitation lying upon her\u003cbr\u003esloping lap, the neat, childish handwriting conjured up a mental\u003cbr\u003epicture of the banker's widow, with her timid, insignificant\u003cbr\u003epersonality, her pale grey eyes and her expression as of a backward\u003cbr\u003echild. I thought, too, of the roomy country mansion her late husband\u003cbr\u003ehad altered to suit his particular needs, and of my visit to it a few\u003cbr\u003eyears ago when its barren spaciousness suggested a wing of Kensington\u003cbr\u003eMuseum fitted up temporarily as a place to eat and sleep in. Comparing\u003cbr\u003eit mentally with the poky Chelsea flat where I and my sister kept\u003cbr\u003eimpecunious house, I realised other points as well. Unworthy details\u003cbr\u003eflashed across me to entice: the fine library, the organ, the quiet\u003cbr\u003ework-room I should have, perfect service, the delicious cup of early\u003cbr\u003etea, and hot baths at any moment of the day--without a geyser!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'It's a longish visit, a month--isn't it?' I hedged, smiling at the\u003cbr\u003edetails that seduced me, and ashamed of my man's selfishness, yet\u003cbr\u003eknowing that Frances expected it of me. 'There are points about it, I\u003cbr\u003eadmit. If you're set on my going with you, I could manage it all\u003cbr\u003eright.'\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI spoke at length in this way because my sister made no answer. I saw\u003cbr\u003eher tired eyes gazing into the dreariness of Oakley Street and felt a\u003cbr\u003epang strike through me. After a pause, in which again she said no\u003cbr\u003eword, I added: 'So, when you write the letter, you might hint,\u003cbr\u003eperhaps, that I usually work all the morning, and--er--am not a very\u003cbr\u003elively visitor! Then she'll understand, you see.' And I half-rose to\u003cbr\u003ereturn to my diminutive study, where I was slaving, just then, at an\u003cbr\u003eabsorbing article on Comparative Aesthetic Values in the Blind and\u003cbr\u003eDeaf.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut Frances did not move. She kept her grey eyes upon Oakley Street\u003cbr\u003ewhere the evening mist from the river drew mournful perspectives into\u003cbr\u003eview. It was late October. We heard the omnibuses thundering across\u003cbr\u003ethe bridge. The monotony of that broad, characterless street seemed\u003cbr\u003emore than usually depressing. Even in June sunshine it was dead, but\u003cbr\u003ewith autumn its melancholy soaked into every house between King's Road\u003cbr\u003eand the Embankment. It washed thought into the past, instead of\u003cbr\u003einviting it hopefully towards the future. For me, its easy width was\u003cbr\u003ean avenue through which nameless slums across the river sent creeping\u003cbr\u003emessages of depression, and I always regarded it as Winter's main\u003cbr\u003eentrance into London--fog, slush, gloom trooped down it every\u003cbr\u003eNovember, waving their forbidding banners till March came to rout\u003cbr\u003ethem.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIts one claim upon my love was that the south wind swept sometimes\u003cbr\u003eunobstructed up it, soft with suggestions of the sea. These lugubrious\u003cbr\u003ethoughts I naturally kept to myself, though I never ceased to regret\u003cbr\u003ethe little flat whose cheapness had seduced us. Now, as I watched my\u003cbr\u003esister's impassive face, I realised that perhaps she, too, felt as I\u003cbr\u003efelt, yet, brave woman, without betraying it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e'And, look here, Fanny,' I said, putting a hand upon her shoulder as I\u003cbr\u003ecrossed the room, 'it would be the very thing for you. You're worn out\u003cbr\u003ewith catering and housekeeping. Mabel is your oldest friend, besides,\u003cbr\u003eand you've hardly seen her since he died--'","brand":"WDS Publishing","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47070265245936,"sku":"2940013768963","price":0.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940013768963_p0.jpg?v=1763590027","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013768963","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}