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Baccarat

BaccaratAuthor: Julia Frankau
Publisher: BiblioLife
Category: Book

Buy New: $25.99
as of 9/10/2010 00:10 CDT details



New (6) Used (1) from $25.99

Seller: Amazon.com

Media: Hardcover
Pages: 328
Number Of Items: 1
Shipping Weight (lbs): 1.4
Dimensions (in): 9.2 x 6.1 x 0.8

ISBN: 1110016301
EAN: 9781110016303

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Availability: Usually ships in 24 hours

Also Available In:

  • Paperback - Baccarat
  • Paperback - Baccarat (2010 Reprint)
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  • Paperback - Baccarat: A Novel (1904)
  • Unknown Binding - Baccarat

Editorial Reviews:

Product Description
Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: CHAPTER IV The day after her first introduction to the Cercle, Julie found herself rather bored, and even less inclined than before to enjoy her own company, She wandered about disconsolately in the early morning. She saw the Bertrands depart on their motor for Caen, where they were to spend the day. Monsieur Bertrand had introduced Julie to the Baron d'Avril, he had recognised that the Baron had given her the freedom of the Cercle. It did not seem to him, or to his companion, that there was more to be done for Julie. They would amuse themselves, they would both enjoy Cabourg. Presto! the thing was done. Monsieur and the temporary Madame Bertrand could now devote themselves to each other with an easy mind. But the Baron had been summoned to Villers j that they could not know. The monotony of the hot sandy plage, the sight of the white-capped bonnes, with their wizened, dark-skinned French babies, the rattle with which the sweetmeat sellers announced their approach, the babel of mothers and children, were notcalming to the nerves that had been unstrung by the excitement of the previous evening. The crawling sea, with its waveless, slow-incoming tide, was untempting; but when at length she had made up her mind to bathe, when she found herself out of her depth, the warm salt buoyancy soon exhilarated her. She swam on, and on, until she had forgotten her ennui, her rasped nerves, the monotonous morning, and the heat of the summer noon. It was strange that when, happy and cool in her clinging bathing-dress, she emerged from the sea, she should have almost run into the arms of Monsieur Diderot, the banquier whose advent last night had been the signal for her exciting hour, and to whom she owed her large winnings, and that wonderful series of cards. For she was still a lit...




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