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Her Journey's End

Bag om Her Journey's End

This work of fiction is excellent for Catholic children. Reprinted from a hundred years ago, this will prove wholesome reading for children and adults alike. This book is photographically reproduced to preserve its integrity. Each page is hand inspected for flaws and these are corrected. This work begins: THE girl stood looking out of the sacristy window, twisting her long gloves idly through her fingers, her glance, meanwhile, fastened on the hurrying men and women who were passing on to the big gray factories at the other end of the town. The shrill whistles which announced that the day of toil had begun sounded in her ears, piercingly, almost menacingly. As she watched, and the last, long-drawn-out note of the siren quivered and died on the crisp air, the street seemed to clear almost magically, for not to be inside those gates when the whistle ceased meant the loss of a day's work-a thing no man or woman among them could afford. The girl, however, did not move as the street grew quiet, but stared out in abstracted fashion, and presently the low, humming sound of countless machines fell on her ears.

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  • Sprog:
  • Engelsk
  • ISBN:
  • 9781499297768
  • Indbinding:
  • Paperback
  • Sideantal:
  • 308
  • Udgivet:
  • 29. april 2014
  • Størrelse:
  • 152x229x16 mm.
  • Vægt:
  • 413 g.
  • BLACK NOVEMBER
Leveringstid: 2-3 uger
Forventet levering: 11. december 2024

Beskrivelse af Her Journey's End

This work of fiction is excellent for Catholic children. Reprinted from a hundred years ago, this will prove wholesome reading for children and adults alike. This book is photographically reproduced to preserve its integrity. Each page is hand inspected for flaws and these are corrected. This work begins: THE girl stood looking out of the sacristy window, twisting her long gloves idly through her fingers, her glance, meanwhile, fastened on the hurrying men and women who were passing on to the big gray factories at the other end of the town. The shrill whistles which announced that the day of toil had begun sounded in her ears, piercingly, almost menacingly. As she watched, and the last, long-drawn-out note of the siren quivered and died on the crisp air, the street seemed to clear almost magically, for not to be inside those gates when the whistle ceased meant the loss of a day's work-a thing no man or woman among them could afford. The girl, however, did not move as the street grew quiet, but stared out in abstracted fashion, and presently the low, humming sound of countless machines fell on her ears.

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