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The Stories of H.c. Bunner. First Series; With an Introductory Note by Brander Matthews
The Stories of Hc Bunner First Series With an Introductory Note by Brander Matthews Author:Henry Cuyler Bunner General Books publication date: 2009 Original publication date: 1916 Original Publisher: Charles Scribner's sons Notes: This is a black and white OCR reprint of the original. It has no illustrations and there may be typos or missing text. When you buy the General Books edition of this book you get free trial access to Million-Books.com where... more » you can select from more than a million books for free. Excerpt: THE MIDGE IT was quiet in the Brasserie Pigault. It was a snowy night, for one thing, the air full of a damp, heavy fall of broad white flakes. And then there had been a bad fire down in Grand Street, and the frivolous and pleasure-seeking portion of the quarter's population had gone down to see the wounded people taken out of the ruins. So business was dull at the Brasserie Pigault. Undeservedly dull, for the only stains on the dim walls were the stains of time : the table-tops shone like century-polished mahogany, the lusty, friendly fire glowed through the red eyes of the great stove, the sand on the floor was crystal-bright, and bright were Madame Pigault 's black eyes, as she sat knitting behind the desk, and looked toward the window, where a fantail of gas-jets lit up alluringly the legend which, when you once got inside, read: . TJUAOIl. t It was only a beer-saloon, of course; but there were a comfort and cleanliness about it that were almost homelike. And, just for this dull hour, the room was filled with the charm of that sacred yet sociable quiet which the male animal of our species loves to establish in whatever serves him for club- room. There were little noises, but they were of a gentle sort. From time to time there was the joggle of falling coal in the big stove; and then Louis, the waiter, set it right with a subdued rattling. Sometimes a gas-jet flared and wheezed and whistled until madame's knitting-needles clicked on the counter, and Louis flew across the room just as the vicious spurt of flame made up its mind to subside. More often ...« less