New Release Books by C N Williamson

The Chauffeur and the Chaperon, is many of the old books which have been considered important throughout the human history. They are now extremely scarce and very expensive antique. So that this work is never forgotten we republish these books in high quality, using the original text and artwork so that they can be preserved for the present and future generations. This whole book has been reformatted, retyped and designed. These books are not made of scanned copies of their original work and hence the text is clear and readable.

I often feel like that; but there's nobody to tell, except the trees and the dogs, and my poorpony, who is almost too old and second-childish now to understand. She was my brotherStanforth's pony first of all, and Stanforth is twenty-eight; then she was Vic's, and Vic is-but Mother doesn't like Vic's age to be mentioned any more, though she is years youngerthan Stan.I took a walk in the park and afterwards went through the rose-garden, to see how theroses were getting on. There were a lot of petals for my pot-pourri, and gathering them upkept me for some time. Then, as the jar stands in Vic's and my den (she calls it her den, butit has to be part mine, as I have no other), I was going in by one of the long windows, when Iheard Mother's voice. "The question is," she was saying, "what's to be done with Betty?"I turned round and ran away on my tiptoes across the lawn, for I didn't want to be aneavesdropper, and it would be nearly as bad to have Mother know I had heard even thosefew words; she would be so annoyed, and Mother chills me all the way through to my boneswhen she's annoyed. It is wonderful how she does it, for she never scolds; but thethermometer simply drops to freezing-point, and you feel like a poor little shivering crocusthat has come up too soon, by mistake, to find the world covered with snow, and no hope ofsqueezing back into its own cosy warm bulb again.

Simone flung out her hands, palm upward. They were beautifully manicured hands, ascarefully tended as her mistress's. And as she smiled her teeth showed very white. When her facewas grave, she looked somewhat sullen, and might be thirty-five; but the smile was rejuvenating.It put her back to twenty-eight, and made her almost handsome as well as chic. "Miladi hasknown Mademoiselle since her schooldays, is it not?" she hedged. "Miladi will be able to judgeas well as if I told her whether Mademoiselle would have made that answer.""I thought it rang true when I read it!" laughed Lady West. "But Simone, when you say Ihave 'known Mademoiselle since her schooldays', you make me sound awfully antique. We wereat Madame de Sain's together. I came over to England the year I left, and married poor Sir Algyonly three months after I was presented." She thought it best to hammer these details intoSimone's head, in case the woman really was in touch with those back-door, kitchen-stairsreporters. Then, to give an air of carelessness to her words, she turned the subject. "Perhaps youmight let Mademoiselle know I've come. Parker told me that she was lying down-that she'dpromised her uncle to rest till tea time. So I wouldn't have her disturbed. But if her hair is beingwashed, she might let me in.""I will ask Miladi," said Simone. "I came to the salon to see if the curtains were drawn. IfMadame permits!" She tripped with her short, high-heeled step first to one window, then theother, and closed the draperies of old-rose brocade. Having done this, she pattered out of theroom.

Now, I'll begin and tell you everything exactly as it happened. Many a "confession-letter"I've begun in just these words, but never one like this. I don't deserve that it should bringme the heartease which used to come. But the thought of you is my star in darkness. Brianis the last person to whom I can speak, because above all things I want him to be happy. Onearth there is no one else. Beyond the earth there is-you.When Brian was wounded, they expected him to die, and he was asking for me. Thetelegram came one day when we had all been rather overworked in the hospital, and I wasfeeling ready to drop. I must only have imagined my tiredness though, for when I heardabout Brian I grew suddenly strong as steel. I was given leave, and disinfected, and purifiedas thoroughly as Esther when she was being made worthy of Ahasuerus. Then I dashed offto catch the first train going north.St. Raphael was our railway station, but I hadn't seen the place since I took up work in theHôpital des Épidémies. That was many months before; and meanwhile a training-school forAmerican aviators had been started at St. Raphael. News of its progress had drifted to ourears, but of course the men weren't allowed to come within a mile of us: we were toocontagious. They had sent presents, though-presents of money, and one grand gift hadburst upon us from a young millionaire whose father's name is known everywhere. He senta cheque for a sum so big that we nurses were nearly knocked down by the size of it. Withit was enclosed a request that the money should be used to put wire-nettings in allwindows and doors, and to build a roofed loggia for convalescents. If there were anythingleft over, we might buy deck-chairs and air-pillows. Of course it was easy for any one toknow that we needed all these things. Our lack was notorious. We sent a much disinfected, carbolic-smelling round robin of thanks to "James W. Beckett, Junior," son of the westernrailway king.

Mrs. Muir's motive for visiting the garret out of season was a simple one, but it was wellthat Barrie did not know this, for it was not at all interesting, and would have broken themusic, thrown cold water on the thrill. Moths, no respecters of persons or judges of highreligious reputations, had dared to nest in Mrs. MacDonald's best black cashmere dress, which had not been worn and would not be worn, except on great occasions, until nextseason, and had mechanically reduced it to the rate of second best. Moth-powder andmoth-balls were exhausted in downstairs regions, but there was a store of both in thegarret; and in her annoyance at having to ascend at an unprecedented time, and hervexation at an accident such as must happen in the best regulated families, Mrs. Muir hadhurriedly returned with the wanted box, forgetting to lock the door.Barrie could not be sure that the housekeeper was not even now in the garret; but she hadto find out: and the awful thrill of uncertainty made her next step a high adventure, theadventure of her life. It was a step onto the garret stairs, and though it meant dangers of allsorts, she risked them every one, and closed the door behind her. You see, if she had notdone this, any person passing along the landing-a person such as Grandma, or JanetHepburn-would at once have seen the streak of gold, a mere yellow crack to them, andthen and there would have arisen a clamour for the key

This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.

They had come to a standstill, close to the arbour; but there was hope that they mightn't discover it, because it wasn't an ordinary arbour. It was really a deep, sweet-scented hollow scooped out of an immense arbor vitæ tree, camouflaged to look like its sister trees in a group beside the path. The hollow contained an old marble seat, on which I was sitting, but the low entrance could only be reached by one who knew of its existence, passing between those other trees.