Prelude to a Certain Midnight

Prelude to a Certain Midnight

Gerald Kersh

Language: English

Pages: 249

ISBN: B0014NRUN2

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


1947 Grey Cloth Hardcover No DJ. Published by Doubleday 249 Clean Pages, Spine Tight, Firm. I have provided a photograph for you.

The Thrill

Orphan Train: A Novel

Death of a Salesman: Certain Private Conversations in Two Acts and a Requiem

Dead Metaphor: Three Plays

Ideal

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

outraged at the lightness of this sentence and for five years, no matter what anyone said, she managed to introduce ‘six months for torturing a child to death’ into every conversation. If, say, you were talking about the parcel-post, she got away from parcels to the subject of string; from string to rope; from rope to murder, and so to a peroration: “Kill your wife’s lover as a gentleman should, and you’ll swing for it. Torture babies to death and you only get six months in quod!” With her, every

with all the vigour God had given her. She went, first of all, to the shop of Sam Sabbatani and there asked a policeman the way to the Ingersoll Road School. He said: “Ingersoll Road School. Take the first on your right, go straight on, bear left, take the first on your right and the second on your left and then you’ll find it, just round the first corner at your left, mum.” Asta said: “Is that the best way to get to it?” “You know, mum, there is no use going there before nine o’clock, don’t

by a red-brick wall, and said: “See?” Asta gave him half a crown and went in at the entrance under the sign that said GIRLS. She was aware, first of all, of a smell of chalk. One of the teachers had arrived – a light-haired woman who looked older than her years and had no eyebrows. Asta Thundersley got hold of her and said: “Are you the headmistress?” “I am Miss Leaf. Is there anything I can do for you?” “Give me the headmistress.” Miss Leaf said: “I don’t think she’ll be in for a few

conversation with Thea Olivia now, together with Hemmeridge, Graham Strind-berg, and Mothmar Acord. Milton Catt intercepted her: they embraced. Tony Mungo clutched her wrist and kissed it; Geezle bowed. Roget, demonstrating a trick with a tray and three glasses, made a clang and a clash; and then Sir Storrington Thirst made noise and mess scraping up glass and drink with a fire-shovel. Ayesha Babbington had interested herself in the trapezius-muscles of Milton Catt, who at the same time was being

of horror, said: “You mustn’t say such things!” Looking down at his freckled hands Mothmar Acord lifted a shoulder and a corner of his mouth and sauntered away to talk to Avril Wensday. Tobit Osbert said: “It seems to me that Mr Acord isn’t quite right in what he said. Dropping a bomb is one thing. Getting hold of someone by the throat and choking them and – excuse me, madam – raping them, is another thing. Look down from a very high building. Look down from the Monument in the City, and even

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