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قراءة كتاب The Forged Note: A Romance of the Darker Races
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">"'Scriminatin' 'Ginst Nigga's"
She had never felt that he would rebuke her, but now she turned her head away to shut out the scorn in the look he had given her.
"Wha's yo' man?" "I—I have no man," Mildred replied, turning her face away. "I am alone—alone in everything."
THE FORGED NOTE
CHARACTERS
Sydney Wyeth, An Observer, Who had the Courage of His Convictions.
Mildred Latham, A Girl of Mystery, Whose Fortunes are What We Follow.
Furgeson and Thurman, Originals, Who Possessed some Wit and Humor.
B.J. Dickson, An Editor, and a Fighter of the Right Sort.
V.R. Coleman, (Slim) A Summertime Professor and "Business Man". (?)
"Legs", a "Crap Shooter", Who Reformed and Became a Hero.
John Moore, A Character, Who Read the Bible—and did Other Things.
Miss Palmer, Grasswidow and School Teacher, Who Desired to Remarry.
Dr. Randall, A Druggist, Who Knew Everybody's Business.
Wilson Jacobs, A Minister, Who Works for Uplift among Black People.
Constance Jacobs, His Sister, a Friend of the Girl of Mystery.
Stephen Myer, With a Heart, but a Sinner, Who Died and Went to——.
THE FORGED NOTE
CHAPTER ONE
The Barrier
He sat at a desk in the small office he had taken. Before him were papers and bills—unpaid—and letters too, he had not opened, while to one side were others he had read, and had typed replies thereto. He had paused in his work, and was gazing stupidly at the litter before him.
His name was Sidney Wyeth, and his home was away off in the great northwest, in a strip of territory known as the Rosebud Country. As we meet him now, however, he is located on the fifth floor of an office building, slightly toward the outskirts of the business district of one of our great American cities. He is by profession an author, which might explain his presence at a desk. It happens, however, that he is not there this time as a weaver of dreams, but attending to matter in connection with the circulation of his work, for he is his own publisher.
At that moment, however, he was nothing, for he was sick. For days he had felt a strange illness. Obviously it had almost reached an acute stage; for, apparently unable to maintain an upright position at the desk, he presently stretched himself face downward.
He might have been in this position an hour, or it might have been only a few minutes; but of a sudden he was brought to a position again erect, with ears alert, since he was sure he had heard a sound without. He strained his ears in silence.
Outside, a soft rain was falling. As he continued to listen, his gaze wandered out over the city below, with its medley of buildings that rose to various heights, and sparkled with electric lights. His gaze, in drifting, presently surveyed the main street of the city, an