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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Five Tales, by John Galsworthy 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: Five Tales Author: John Galsworthy Release Date: June 14, 2006 [EBook #2684] Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIVE TALES *** Produced by David Widger FIVE TALES By John Galsworthy "Life calls the tune, we dance." CONTENTS: THE FIRST AND LAST THE FIRST AND LAST A STOIC A STOIC THE APPLE TREE THE APPLE TREE THE JURYMAN THE JURYMAN INDIAN SUMMER OF A FORSYTE [Also posted as Etext #2594] [In this 1919 edition of "Five Tales" the fifth tale was "Indian Summer of a Forsyte;" in later collections, "Indian Summer..." became the first section of the second volume of The Forsyte Saga] THE FIRST AND LAST "So the last shall be first, and the first last."--HOLY WRIT. It was a dark room at that hour of six in the evening, when just the single oil reading-lamp under its green shade let fall a dapple of light over the Turkey carpet; over the covers of books taken out of the bookshelves, and the open pages of the one selected; over the deep blue and gold of the coffee service on the little old stool with its Oriental embroidery. Very dark in the winter, with drawn curtains, many rows of leather-bound volumes, oak-panelled walls and ceiling. So large, too, that the lighted spot before the fire where he sat was just an oasis. But that was what Keith Darrant liked, after his day's work--the hard early morning study of his "cases," the fret and strain of the day in court; it was his rest, these two hours before dinner, with books, coffee, a pipe, and sometimes a nap. In red Turkish slippers and his old brown velvet coat, he was well suited to that framing of glow and darkness. A painter would have seized avidly on his clear-cut, yellowish face, with its black eyebrows twisting up over eyes--grey or brown, one could hardly tell, and its dark grizzling hair still plentiful, in spite of those daily hours of wig. He seldom thought of his work while he sat there, throwing off with practised ease the strain of that long attention to the multiple threads of argument and evidenc
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