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I t was the theatre, perhaps, as the theatre was meant to be. A place in which one saw one’s dreams come true. A place in which one could live a vicarious life of splendour and achievement; winning i
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I t was the theatre, perhaps, as the theatre was meant to be. A place in which one saw one’s dreams come true. A place in which one could live a vicarious life of splendour and achievement; winning i
K im Ravenal’s tenth letter to her mother was the decisive one. It arrived late in May, when the Cotton Blossom Floati…
“I was educated,” began Kim Ravenal, studying her reflection in the mirror, and deftly placing a dab of rouge on eith…
T he knell had sounded for the red brick house with the lions guarding its portals. The Chicago soot hung like a pall …
“A nd this,” said Sister Cecilia, “is the chapel.” She took still another key from the great bunch on her key chain an…
T he problem of Kim’s education, of Kim’s future, was more and more insistently borne in upon her. She wanted money—mo…
T he Ravenal reverses, if they were noticed at all in Gamblers’ Alley, went politely unremarked. There was a curious a…
T he most casual onlooker could gauge the fluctuations of the Ravenal fortunes by any one of three signs. There was Ma…
“T hebes?” echoed Parthenia Ann Hawks, widow. The stiff crêpe of her weeds seemed to bristle. “I’ll do nothing of the …
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