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It had been the outburst of a speculative builder, faintly tinged with art, who called its architecture sometimes Elizabethan and sometimes Queen Anne, apparently under the impression that the two sovereigns were identical. It was described with some justice as an artistic colony, though it never in any definable way produced any art. But although its pretensions to be an intellectual centre were a little vague, its pretensions to be a pleasant place were quite indisputable.

The stranger who looked for the first time at the quaint red houses could only think how very oddly shaped the people must be who could fit in to them. Nor when he met the people was he disappointed in this respect. The place was not only pleasant, but perfect, if once he could regard it not as a deception but rather as a dream. That young man with the long, auburn hair and the impudent face—that young man was not really a poet; but surely he was a poem.

That old gentleman with the wild, white beard and the wild, white hat—that venerable humbug was not really a philosopher; but at least he was the cause of philosophy in others. That scientific gentleman with the bald, egg-like head and the bare, bird-like neck had no real right to the airs of science that he assumed.

He had not discovered anything new in biology; but what biological creature could he have discovered more singular than himself? Thus, and thus only, the whole place had properly to be regarded; it had to be considered not so much as a workshop for artists, but as a frail but finished work of art.

A man who stepped into its social atmosphere felt as if he had stepped into a written comedy. More especially this attractive unreality fell upon it about nightfall, when the extravagant roofs were dark against the afterglow and the whole insane village seemed as separate as a drifting cloud.

This again was more strongly true of the many nights of local festivity, when the little gardens were often illuminated, and the big Chinese lanterns glowed in the dwarfish trees like some fierce and monstrous fruit. And this was strongest of all on one particular evening, still vaguely remembered in the locality, of which the auburn-haired poet was the hero.

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It was not by any means the only evening of which he was the hero. On many nights those passing by his little back garden might hear his high, didactic voice laying down the law to men and particularly to women.

The attitude of women in such cases was indeed one of the paradoxes of the place. Most of the women were of the kind vaguely called emancipated, and professed some protest against male supremacy. Yet these new women would always pay to a man the extravagant compliment which no ordinary woman ever pays to him, that of listening while he is talking. And Mr. Lucian Gregory, the red-haired poet, was really in some sense a man worth listening to, even if one only laughed at the end of it.

He put the old cant of the lawlessness of art and the art of lawlessness with a certain impudent freshness which gave at least a momentary pleasure. He was helped in some degree by the arresting oddity of his appearance, which he worked, as the phrase goes, for all it was worth. From within this almost saintly oval, however, his face projected suddenly broad and brutal, the chin carried forward with a look of cockney contempt.

This combination at once tickled and terrified the nerves of a neurotic population.

He seemed like a walking blasphemy, a blend of the angel and the ape. This particular evening, if it is remembered for nothing else, will be remembered in that place for its strange sunset. It looked like the end of the world.

Rare and Precious Things: The Blackstone Affair, Book 4: Volume 4 por Raine Miller

All the heaven seemed covered with a quite vivid and palpable plumage; you could only say that the sky was full of feathers, and of feathers that almost brushed the face. Across the great part of the dome they were grey, with the strangest tints of violet and mauve and an unnatural pink or pale green; but towards the west the whole grew past description, transparent and passionate, and the last red-hot plumes of it covered up the sun like something too good to be seen.

The whole was so close about the earth, as to express nothing but a violent secrecy. The very empyrean seemed to be a secret. It expressed that splendid smallness which is the soul of local patriotism. The very sky seemed small. I say that there are some inhabitants who may remember the evening if only by that oppressive sky. There are others who may remember it because it marked the first appearance in the place of the second poet of Saffron Park.

For a long time the red-haired revolutionary had reigned without a rival; it was upon the night of the sunset that his solitude suddenly ended. The new poet, who introduced himself by the name of Gabriel Syme was a very mild-looking mortal, with a fair, pointed beard and faint, yellow hair. But an impression grew that he was less meek than he looked. He signalised his entrance by differing with the established poet, Gregory, upon the whole nature of poetry.

He said that he Syme was poet of law, a poet of order; nay, he said he was a poet of respectability.

So all the Saffron Parkers looked at him as if he had that moment fallen out of that impossible sky. In fact, Mr.

Lucian Gregory, the anarchic poet, connected the two events. You say you are a poet of law; I say you are a contradiction in terms. I only wonder there were not comets and earthquakes on the night you appeared in this garden. Gregory resumed in high oratorical good humour. An anarchist is an artist. Sweetest Taboo.

Zara Cox. It Ain't Me, Babe. Jamie K. All He Wants. The Billionaire and the Virgin.

Taming Lo: A You and I Novel. Crash Into Me. Looking for You. Kate Perry. Slow Satisfaction. A Heart of Stone Christmas. All In. Raine Miller. The Blackstone Affair Collection. Husband Material. Eyes Wide Open. Cherry Girl. Stories for Amanda. Kelly Elliott. How to write a great review. The review must be at least 50 characters long. The title should be at least 4 characters long.

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Or, get it for Kobo Super Points! Rare and Precious Things "I need you like I need air to breathe. Skip this list. Ratings and Book Reviews 7 63 star ratings 7 reviews. Overall rating 4. Yes No Thanks for your feedback! Report as inappropriate.

This is an awesome series.

I could not love it anymore … Show more Show less. Erotica as only Raine Miller can create.

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I found this series were too raunchy no real romance just raunchy sex. Loved this series!!!! Wish there was more. Nice way to round off their love story. I was surprised about Lance. Now DNA itself is on the way out.

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North America lies in ruins beneath the thumb of an omnipotent psychopath. Dick Spaceman Peterson downloads a "wub" from a local before his departure from Mars and takes it back aboard the ship on which he is a crew member. But the captain Franco cites his concerns about the extra weight of having this huge pig-like creature on-board, although he really seems more interested in how it might taste.

Of them all, Poloda was the most distant - literally Beyond The Farthest Star our telescope could view! Such was the conception of one scientist - and his effort to prove this theory was to take a party of Americans on an expdition to a place that was literally Beyond the Stars.

Here were hills and valleys, lakes and streams, glowing with the light of the most precious of metals. The heavens have been silent since - until a derelict space probe hears whispers from a distant comet.It may be only a half-truth, quarter-truth, tenth-truth; but then he says more than he means—from sheer force of meaning it.

This particular evening, if it is remembered for nothing else, will be remembered in that place for its strange sunset. Every night she rises with a horrible craving for blood. Inescapable The Premonition 1 by Amy A. A Convergence of Birds: It is vital, therefore, to read and study what Scripture has to say about this theme.

Law and the British Empire Bernard Marx seems alone harbouring an ill-defined longing to break free. The tall hat and long frock coat were black; the face, in an abrupt shadow, was almost as dark.