The House of the Whispering Pines
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By Anna Katharine Green 19 Oct, 2020
The moon rode high; but ominous clouds were rushing towards it-clouds heavy with snow. I watched these clouds as I drove recklessly, desperately, over the winter roads. I had just missed the desire of my life, the one precious treasure which I covete ... Read more
The moon rode high; but ominous clouds were rushing towards it-clouds heavy with snow. I watched these clouds as I drove recklessly, desperately, over the winter roads. I had just missed the desire of my life, the one precious treasure which I coveted with my whole undisciplined heart, and not being what you call a man of self-restraint, I was chafed by my defeat far beyond the bounds I have usually set for myself. The moon-with the wild skurry of clouds hastening to blot it out of sight-seemed to mirror the chaos threatening my better impulses; and, idly keeping it in view, I rode on, hardly conscious of my course till the rapid recurrence of several well-known landmarks warned me that I had taken the longest route home, and that in another moment I should be skirting the grounds of The Whispering Pines, our country clubhouse. Less
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  • 326.778 KB
  • 404
  • Public Domain Book
  • English
  • 978-1421842226
Anna Katharine Green (1846-1935) was an American poet and novelist. She was one of the first writers of detective fiction in America and distinguished herself by writing well plotted, legally accurate...
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