At Bay

Kirjan At Bay (2015) on kirjoittanut Mrs Alexander. Kirjan kieli on englanti, ja sen on kustantanut Createspace Independent Publishing Platform. Kirja on laajuudeltaan 114 sivua ja se on nidottu.

Paris on a bright April morning. Can any city make a brighter, braver show under a clear blue sky and a brilliant sun, the chestnuts in the Champs Elys es and Tuileries gardens bursting into bloom, the flower-market of the Madeleine a mass of color, exhaling delicious perfume, the fair purchasers in the first freshness of their spring attire, the tide of business and of pleasure at the fullest flood. It is a sight to fill any heart tolerably free from pressing anxiety with an irresistible sense of youth. Though the month was still young, the weather was warm enough to make open windows an agreeable addition to the comfort of a pretty little salon in the entre-sol of Meurice's hotel, where an elderly lady was seated at a table on which a dainty d jeuner, and a couple of bottles, inscribed respectively "Moselle" and "Pomard," was laid out. She was not handsome, never could have been handsome, her face was broad and strong, with small twinkling black eyes, and a heavy jaw. Her figure still showed traces of the symmetry for which she had been remarkable, and the hand she had stretched out to take another oyster, was fine both in shape and color. Her rich black silk dress, the lace of her cap, the jewels on her fingers, all her surroundings indicated wealth, -her expression, comfortable self-satisfaction. She finished her oyster with an air of enjoyment, and then looking at her watch, murmured "he is late"-as she spoke, the door was opened, and a waiter announced "M. Glynn. " The visitor was a tall, broad-shouldered man, of perhaps thirty-five or more, with very dark hair, eyes, and complexion, well dressed and easy in his bearing and movements, yet not looking quite like a club or a drawing-room man. "This is not your usual punctuality, Hugh," said the lady smiling benignly, as she stretched out a welcoming hand, "but you make your own punishment Time, tide, and vol au vents, wait for no man. "