Juggerernaut

Paperback / softback
This historic book may have numerous typos, missing text or index. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. 1911. Not illustrated. Excerpt: ... I CHAPTER I The rain had ceased, and for the last half-hour a patch of yellow sunlight had been slowly travelling across the floor of Margery's room towards the bed on which she lay. It was a little difficult at first to see the plan of her, for her attitude denoted the extreme of disordered despair. A great mass of brown hair was tossed about the pillow, which was strangely rumpled and creased, and her face was somewhere buried in it below her hair. One long black-stockinged leg, however, stretched out at full length down the bed, gave a clue to her-general geography; the other was tucked up beneath her: one hand, thrown above her head, grasped the brass rail of the bed; the position of the other was unconjecturable. On the floor, by the side of the bed, lay a handkerchief, pressed together into a little hard wet ball, having been cast away when it was no longer of use in drying her eyes, and from time to time the bed shook with a sob. But the sobs were not very frequent now. She had cried herself out, and lay still, spent and tired both physically and emotionally. The actual cause of her tears, though only half an hour old, had a little receded in prominence. What chiefly filled her now was the sense of utter desolation, the fact that she alone cared, and that nobody else minded one atom. Child as she was, and trivial as might be the reason of her tears, she had there sounded the utmost depths of human woe: she had come upon the bedrock on which all real misery is founded--namely, the sense of being alone in sorrow. And at the moment she gave voice to it. "No--nobody cares," she moaned to her damp and crumpled pillow. Up to the present moment her verdict upon the probably universal heartlessness of mankind was backed by evidence that seemed overwhelming. Bella...