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The Beach of Dreams
     

The Beach of Dreams

2.0 3
by Henry de Vere Stacpoole
 

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Here is the love story of a beautiful Irish girl who rode horses like an Arizona cowboy, whose hair was red as flame, and whose lover was an English gentleman. But then, there was the Spaniard, too! Hot-headed, he was, passionate and lawless as a Tartar. Needless to say the story takes some startling turns. The end is surprising. And the satisfying conclusion it all

Overview

Here is the love story of a beautiful Irish girl who rode horses like an Arizona cowboy, whose hair was red as flame, and whose lover was an English gentleman. But then, there was the Spaniard, too! Hot-headed, he was, passionate and lawless as a Tartar. Needless to say the story takes some startling turns. The end is surprising. And the satisfying conclusion it all comes to is this, that the eternal feminine still responds to courage in the male.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781532761584
Publisher:
CreateSpace Publishing
Publication date:
04/17/2016
Pages:
274
Product dimensions:
6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.58(d)

Read an Excerpt


CHAPTER III THE GASTON DE PARIS OLD Ponting was right in all his particulars, except one. The owner of the Gaston de Paris was not a king, only a prince. Prince Selm, a gentleman like his Highness of Monaco with a passion for the deep sea and its exploration. The Holy Roman Empire had given his great grandfather the title of prince, and estates in Thuringia gave him money enough to do what he pleased, an unfortunate marriage gave him a distaste for High Civilization, and his scientific bent and passion for the sea — inherited with a strain of old Norse blood — did the rest. He had chosen well. Cards, women and wine, pleasure and the glittering things of life, all these betray one, but the sea, though she may kill, never leaves a man broken, never destroys his soul. But Eugene Henry William of Selm for all this sea passion might have remained a landsman, for the simple reason that he was one of those thorough souls for whom Life and an Object are synonymous terms. In other words he would never have made a yachtsman, a creature shifting from Keil to Cowes and Cowes to Naples according to season, a cup gatherer and club-house haunter. But Exploration gave him the incentive and the Musee Oceanographique of Monaco his inspiration, limitless wealth supplied the means. The Gaston de Paris built by Yiguard of Toulon was an ocean going steam yacht of twelve hundred and fifty tons with engines by Conturier of Nantes and everything of the latest from Conturier's twin- action centrifugal bilge pumps to the last thing in sea valves. She was reckoned by those who knew her the finest sea-going yacht in the world and she was certainly the chef-d'oeuvre of Lafiette, Viguard's chiefdesigner. Lafiette was more than a designer, he was a creator, the sea was in his blood giving him...

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The Beach Of Dreams 1 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 2 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
'We're mourning Tornadoclaw, not Infernofrost!' I thought irritably. I lay down next to the grave and stared up at the sky. "Are you up there, father?" I murmured. I missed Tornadoclaw greatly. 'Who will be the next deputy?' I thought, remembering that my father was also deputy. "He deserves mofe respect than he is given." I murmured. -BS- I curl up in a ball at the foot of my fathers grave. I couldn't help but think his death was my fault. 'Dad... I miss you.' I thought. My gray fur was muddy and matted, but I didn't care. All I cared about was my lost father. -TP- "Grandpa.." I murmur, staring at the grave. I place a rose on his grave and sit down with my head bowed. "Farewell Grandpa. You were a great Warrior and you will be remembered for moons to come." I meowed. -IP-
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I stumble in, Tornadoclaw's body on my back. A hole has already been dug, much to my amazement. A ghost flashes by briefly, and I catch a glimpse of purple eyes. Sobbing, I lower his body into the grave, then pull up some daisies and lay them on his head. I look up at the stars and remember all those nights. I hold back new tears, and shovel dirt over him with my paws. Once he's buried, I plant more daisies over his grave, then write "Tornadoclaw:A loving father, loving mate, and a loyal warrior of HurricaneClan. R.I.P." on a stone slab, then haul it at the top of his grave. "Tornadoclaw, I love you. I love you so much. Don't forget that night beneath the stars, when we became partners. Don't forget...I promise I won't," I whisper sorrowfully. I life my muzzle the sky and yowl mournfully.+Geckostar