The Masterfolk

The Masterfolk - Wherein is Attempted the Unravelling of the Strange Affair of my Lord Wyntwarde of Cavil and Miss Betty Modeyne

Amidst the untidy litter of torn paper that strewed the bare plank floor there stood a large double writing-table, spread with proofs and manuscript and pamphlets; and, with his feet in the litter of the floor and his elbows in the litter of the table, sat a gaunt yellow-haired youth, solemnly writing. Netherby Gomme peered at his work in the waning light of the departing November afternoon; and the deepening dusk that took possession of the shabby room, turning all things to the colour of shadows, strained his attention, drawing long lines about his mouth and pronouncing the pallor of his serious facethe grim mask of the humorist. The slips of paper that were set into the sleeve-ends of his well-brushed threadbare coat to save the soiling of his shirt-cuffs, and the long reach of yellow sock that showed his feet thrust a wrinkled span beyond the original intention of his much-kneed trousers, marked the ordered untidiness of the literary habit. Everything in the roomthe overflowed waste-paper basket at his feet; the severe academic comfort of the polished wooden armchair that stood yawning augustly vacant opposite to him; the shut door at his right hand, with its curt announcement of Editor in stiff, forbidding letters; the low bookshelves about the room with their rows of books of reference, stacks of journals and literary scraps piled a-top of them; the walls with their irregular array of calendars, advertisements, notices, and printed and pictured odds and ends; the atmosphere of the scrap-gathering paste-pot and of clippings from the knowledge of the world; the sepulchral, monotonous clock that ticked its aggressive statement of the passage of time as though with a cough of admonition that, whatever journalism might be, life was short and art was long; the naked mantel beneath it, which held the shabby soul of the jerrybuilder turned to stonefor it is the hearth that is haunted by the spirit of the architect, and this one had been a vulgar fellowthe bare fireplace that did not even go through the feeble pretence of giving comfort, for it had no fender, no hearthrug, but gaped, bored and empty and black, upon the making of literatureeverything marked the room to be one of those scanty workshops where opinions are made, the dingy editorial office of a struggling weekly review;[4] and the extent of the dinginess showed it to be a very struggling affair indeed. ......Buy Now (To Read More)

Product details

Ebook Number: 61754
Author: MacFall, Haldane
Release Date: Apr 4, 2020
Format: eBook
Language: English