Richard Harding Davis

Richard Harding Davis

Summary

Portrait of Richard Harding Davis Richard Harding Davis The Red Cross Girl

Outside Doctor Gilman's cottage, among the trees of the campus, paper lanterns like oranges aglow were swaying in the evening breeze. In front of Hallowell the flame of a bonfire shot to the top of the tallest elms, and gathered in a circle round it the glee club sang, and cheer succeeded cheer-cheers for the heroes of the cinder track, for the heroes of the diamond and the gridiron, cheers for the men who had flunked especially for one man who had flunked. But for that man who for thirty years in the class room had served the college there were no cheers.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Richard Harding Davis Richard Harding Davis The Red Cross Girl

Sister Anne shrugged her shoulders; they were charming shoulders—as delicate as the pinions of a bird.
“One must live,” said Sister Anne.
They had passed through the last cold corridor, between the last rows of rigid white cots, and had come out into the sunshine. Below them stretched Connecticut, painted in autumn colors. Sister Anne seated herself upon the marble railing of the terrace and looked down upon the flashing waters of the Sound.
“Yes; that's it,” she repeated softly—“one must live.”
Sam looked at her—but, finding that to do so made speech difficult, looked hurriedly away.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Richard Harding Davis Richard Harding Davis The Red Cross Girl

Empaled on their little iron uprights, each sailorman whirled—sometimes languidly, like a great lady revolving to the slow measures of a waltz, sometimes so rapidly that he made you quite dizzy, and had he not been a sailorman with a heart of oak and a head and stomach of pine, he would have been quite seasick. But the particular sailorman that Latimer bought for Helen Page and put on sentry duty carried on his shoulders most grave and unusual responsibilities.
Source: Gutenberg

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