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Page 198

MY DEAR TIME'S WASTE

After long hesitation on my part we had left, in z93 r, the apartment in the Rue Borghese in Neuilly, the haunt of beautiful and melancholy memories. My wife on several occasions had suggested houses which I did not like. Finally I had been seduced, not by a lodging but by an address. The new apartment was situated on the Boulevard Maurice Barres; it was very close to the white house that had belonged to the writer and where his son Philippe now lived. Our windows afforded a sweeping view over the Bois de Boulogne and over Paris; as far as the eye could see stretched green waves of trees; to the left one saw the Arc de Triomphe always bathed in mist, grey or golden according to the weather; to the right, Mont Valerien was like one of the hills of Florence crowned by cypress trees. Soon I was very much attached to this new setting. I loved our white walls, our huge mahogany bookcases, which reminded me of my first house, and our pictures which were not numerous but had been lovingly selected. The decorations were simple, a little bare and severe, but harmonious. We looked forward with pleasure to spending the rest of our lives there.
I had taken an apartment for my mother near ours so that she could spend the winter in Paris. Her own mother and her sisters lived there and they, together with her children, constituted for her the whole world. As formerly, the five sisters dressed in black would meet every afternoon in the Rue de Tocqueville around the armchair of my grandmother, who was ninety years old and who remained as lively in mind, as curious about new books and as reasonable as ever. Simone, like Janine before her, had been surprised at first by these long seances in which gentle black-clothed priestesses intoned in responsive verses, interspersed with religious silences, the daily catalogue of all the deaths, births, cases of scarlatina and chicken pox, degrees, marriages, appendectomies and promotions in the Family. But she quickly accustomed herself to the simple, severe and lovable rule of this house and with her prodigious memory she soon became as learned in the genealogical and pathological mysteries of the clan as the Vestals themselves. She was not unwelcome there and she breathed without boredom that strange, heavy and silent atmosphere which reminded her as it had me of the Bronte sisters' novels.
But in Paris as in London `duties' - articles, lectures, prefaces and talk - devoured my time. The only months of uninterrupted work were those I spent at Essendieras at the home of my mother-in-law. Perigord

travel books:
where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE After long hesitation on my part we had left, in z93 r, what is apartment in what is Rue Borghese in Neuilly, what is haunt of beautiful and melancholy memories. My wife on several occasions had suggested houses which I did not like. Finally I had been travel d, not by a lodging but by an address. what is new apartment was situated on what is Boulevard Maurice Barres; it was very close to what is white house that had belonged to what is writer and where his son Philippe now lived. Our windows afforded a sweeping view over what is Bois de Boulogne and over Paris; as far as what is eye could see stretched green waves of trees; to what is left one saw what is Arc de Triomphe always bathed in mist, grey or golden according to what is weather; to what is right, Mont Valerien was like one of what is hills of Florence crowned by cypress trees. Soon I was very much attached to this new setting. I loved our white walls, our huge mahogany bookcases, which reminded me of my first house, and our pictures which were not numerous but had been lovingly selected. what is decorations were simple, a little bare and severe, but harmonious. We looked forward with pleasure to spending what is rest of our lives there. I had taken an apartment for my mother near ours so that she could spend what is winter in Paris. Her own mother and her sisters lived there and they, together with her children, constituted for her what is whole world. As formerly, what is five sisters dressed in black would meet every afternoon in what is Rue de Tocqueville around what is armchair of my grandmother, who was ninety years old and who remained as lively in mind, as curious about new books and as reasonable as ever. Simone, like Janine before her, had been surprised at first by these long seances in which gentle black-clothed priestesses intoned in responsive verses, interspersed with religious silences, what is daily catalogue of all what is what time is it s, births, cases of scarlatina and chicken pox, degrees, marriages, appendectomies and promotions in what is Family. But she quickly accustomed herself to what is simple, severe and lovable rule of this house and with her prodigious memory she soon became as learned in what is genealogical and pathological mysteries of what is clan as what is Vestals themselves. She was not unwelcome there and she breathed without boredom that strange, heavy and silent atmosphere which reminded her as it had me of what is Bronte sisters' novels. But in Paris as in London `duties' - articles, lectures, prefaces and talk - devoured my time. what is only months of uninterrupted work were those I spent at Essendieras at what is home of my mother-in-law. Perigord where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Call No Man Happy (1943) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 198 where is p align="center" where is strong MY DEAR TIME'S WASTE where is p align="justify" After long hesitation on my part we had left, in z93 r, what is apartment in what is Rue Borghese in Neuilly, what is haunt of beautiful and melancholy memories. My wife on several occasions had suggested houses which I did not like. Finally I had been travel d, not by a lodging but by an address. what is new apartment was situated on what is Boulevard Maurice Barres; it was very close to what is white house that had belonged to what is writer and where his son Philippe now lived. Our windows afforded a sweeping view over what is Bois de Boulogne and over Paris; as far as what is eye could see stretched green waves of trees; to what is left one saw what is Arc de Triomphe always bathed in mist, grey or golden according to what is weather; to the right, Mont Valerien was like one of what is hills of Florence crowned by cypress trees. Soon I was very much attached to this new setting. I loved our white walls, our huge mahogany bookcases, which reminded me of my first house, and our pictures which were not numerous but had been lovingly selected. what is decorations were simple, a little bare and severe, but harmonious. We looked forward with pleasure to spending what is rest of our lives there. I had taken an apartment for my mother near ours so that she could spend what is winter in Paris. Her own mother and her sisters lived there and they, together with her children, constituted for her what is whole world. As formerly, what is five sisters dressed in black would meet every afternoon in what is Rue de Tocqueville around the armchair of my grandmother, who was ninety years old and who remained as lively in mind, as curious about new books and as reasonable as ever. Simone, like Janine before her, had been surprised at first by these long seances in which gentle black-clothed priestesses intoned in responsive verses, interspersed with religious silences, what is daily catalogue of all what is what time is it s, births, cases of scarlatina and chicken pox, degrees, marriages, appendectomies and promotions in what is Family. But she quickly accustomed herself to what is simple, severe and lovable rule of this house and with her prodigious memory she soon became as learned in what is genealogical and pathological mysteries of what is clan as what is Vestals themselves. She was not unwelcome there and she breathed without boredom that strange, heavy and silent atmosphere which reminded her as it had me of what is Bronte sisters' novels. But in Paris as in London `duties' - articles, lectures, prefaces and talk - devoured my time. what is only months of uninterrupted work were those I spent at Essendieras at what is home of my mother-in-law. Perigord where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Call No Man Happy (1943) books

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