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Project Gutenberg's When God Laughs and Other Stories, by Jack London This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: When God Laughs and Other Stories Author: Jack London Posting Date: December 14, 2008 [EBook #2545] Release Date: March, 2001 Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN GOD LAUGHS AND OTHER STORIES *** Produced by Les Bowler WHEN GOD LAUGHS, AND OTHER STORIES By Jack London 1911 Mills and Boon edition Contents: When God Laughs The Apostate A Wicked Woman Just Meat Created He Them The Chinago Make Westing Semper Idem A Nose For The King The "Francis Spaight" A Curious Fragment A Piece Of Steak WHEN GOD LAUGHS (with compliments to Harry Cowell) "The gods, the gods are stronger; time Falls down before them, all men's knees Bow, all men's prayers and sorrows climb Like incense toward them; yea, for these Are gods, Felise." Carquinez had relaxed finally. He stole a glance at the rattling windows, looked upward at the beamed roof, and listened for a moment to the savage roar of the south-easter as it caught the bungalow in its bellowing jaws. Then he held his glass between him and the fire and laughed for joy through the golden wine. "It is beautiful," he said. "It is sweetly sweet. It is a woman's wine, and it was made for gray-robed saints to drink." "We grow it on our own warm hills," I said, with pardonable California pride. "You rode up yesterday through the vines from which it was made." It was worth while to get Carquinez to loosen up. Nor was he ever really himself until he felt the mellow warmth of the vine singing in his blood. He was an artist, it is true, always an artist; but somehow, sober, the high pitch and lilt went out of his thought-processes and he was prone to be as deadly dull as a British Sunday--not dull as other men are dull, but dull when measured by the sprightly wight that Monte Carquinez was when he was really himself. From all this it must not be inferred that Carquinez, who is my dear friend and dearer comrade, was a sot. Far from it. He rarely erred. As
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