Sally Bishop
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sally Bishop, by E. Temple Thurston
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Title: Sally Bishop A Romance
Author: E. Temple Thurston
Release Date: October 23, 2005 [EBook #16925]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SALLY
BISHOP ***
Produced by Ron Swanson
SALLY BISHOP
A ROMANCE
BY E. TEMPLE THURSTON
NEW AND CHEAPER EDITION
LONDON CHAPMAN & HALL, LTD. 1912
BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
THE APPLE OF EDEN. TRAFFIC. THE REALIST. THE
EVOLUTION OF KATHERINE. MIRAGE. THE CITY OF
BEAUTIFUL NONSENSE. THE GREATEST WISH IN THE
WORLD. THE PATCHWORK PAPERS. THE GARDEN OF
RESURRECTION. THIRTEEN. THE FLOWER OF GLOSTER. THE
ANTAGONISTS.
_Copyright in the United States of America by E. Temple Thurston,
1909_.
To GERALD DU MAURIER
_MY DEAR GERALD,_
_Amongst the many things which I anticipate in the reception of this
book, is the shrug-shoulder smile of critics at my sub-title--a Romance.
There are canons and rubrics to be observed, it would seem, in the
slightest action that a man attempts in this Great World's Fair of
Conventionality, whose every sideshow is hedged around with the
red-tape of the Law. Witness even that delusive proverb--there is
honour amongst thieves. So is there an unwritten canon in literature and
the making of books, that a Romance must end with a phrase to convey
another illusion--namely, the happiness that is ever after._
_And so, in this respect, I throw canons to the winds--it sounds a
herculean feat--wash out the printed red of the rubric, and call, perhaps
the saddest story I shall write, a Romance._
_Yet I profess to have a reason beyond mere contrariness. The world of
Romance must be at all times an elusive star--never capable of being
put in the exact same place on any one's calendar. And to me it conveys
no fixed beginning, no fixed end, so long as it possesses that quality of
dreaming imagination in the mind of the character with whom the
circumstances are first concerned. All that we know certainly of life is
reality, and of all those myriad things which combine to make up the
one great scheme, of which we know nothing, there is the quality of
Romance--free to any one who cares to let his mind drift upon the sea
of conjecture._
_In that this was the case with Sally; in that she made her dream out of
Reality itself--I have called it a Romance. The Romance that remains a
Romance until the end, is not as yet within the reach of my pen. If it
ever should be--then I promise you that book as well._
_On all my other anticipations--the attitude of the critical mind towards
Chapter IV. in Book I., the sensitiveness of the delicate mind when it
closes its eyes on Chapter VI. of Book II.--I will keep silent. As I have
said, I anticipate many things, but I only hope for your approval._
_Yours always,_ _E. TEMPLE THURSTON._
_LONDON,_ _January 31st, 1908._
CONTENTS
BOOK I. THE CONSCRIPT
BOOK II. THE DESERTER
BOOK III. DERELICT
BOOK IV. THE EMPTY HORIZON
SALLY BISHOP
BOOK I
THE CONSCRIPT
CHAPTER I
It was an evening late in November. The fog that during the afternoon
had been lying like a crouching beast between the closely built houses
had now risen. It was as though it had waited till nightfall for its prey,
and then departed, leaving a sense of sulkiness in the atmosphere that
weighed persistently on the spirits. A slight drizzling rain was wetting
the pavements. It clung in a mist to the glass panes of the street lamps,
dimming the glow of the light within.
In the windows of all the houses the electric lights were burning. You
could see clerks, male and female, bent up over their desks beneath
them. Some worked steadily, never looking up from their occupations;
others gazed with expressionless faces out into the street. Occasionally
the figure of a man would move out of the apparent darkness of the
room beyond. The light would fan in patches on his face. You could
see his lips moving as he spoke to the occupant of the desk; you might
even trace the faint animation as it crept into the face of the person thus
addressed. But it would only last for a few moments. The man would
move away and the look of tired apathy settle itself once more upon the
clerk's features as soon as he or she were left alone.
As it grew
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