John Galsworthy,
The Last Card
(1925)
“ From the terrace she could see, across the little coast gap, the garden of the first-class Madeira hotel, where he and his wife were staying—its palms and terraces and masses of bougainvilleaa. She could see the liner for Brazil lying in Funchal harbor. She could see the window of her own bedroom, where her trunks were packed; and the wide blue sea whereon she was—or was not—going to become Mrs. Ted Cordew on her way to peace. ”
John Galsworthy,
The Last Card
(1925)
“ Sound of oars grinding in the rowlocks, jingle of a belated carro’s bells, a long chime—eight o'clock! The pigs were feeding! She stole back to her room, and put the flower in her hair. No mistake! It lighted her up, balanced the softly whitened, black-eyed mask, the red in the hair, the red in the lips, neither too red now! For a moment she stared, content, moved by her own face! If he could come this minute! She was a work of art. She lighted a cigarette and sat down before herself, turning out the light, so as not to lose that precious momentary confidence. ”
John Galsworthy,
The Last Card
(1925)
“ A mosquito pinged in past her—a sleepless night! Well, the night for them would be as sleepless! Some comfort, that! She wished them joy of their voyage—boxed up together, ten feet by eight! But the garden out there was all blurred for her, as if by rain; the white flowers of the acacia had gone out—no moon, no stars, not even the liner's lights. And in that blur of darkness the figure of the man who wouldn’t come in, of the man sitting in his carro outside, seemed to come and stand as if formed from her own eyes. ”
