eBooks - Literature - Modern Fiction - Joseph Hergesheimer - Cytherea


Cytherea eBooks

by Joseph Hergesheimer


Cytherea - Adobe eBook

Cytherea eBook

Adobe

Platforms
Windows Vista / XP / 2000, Mac OS X, Sony Reader

Features
Advanced navigation, search, bookmarks, and multiple viewing options.

Availability:
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Price: $2.39


Cytherea - Adobe eBook

Cytherea eBook

Adobe

Platforms
Windows Vista / XP / 2000, Mac OS X, Sony Reader

Features
Advanced navigation, search, bookmarks, and multiple viewing options.

Availability:
Download Now

Price: $2.59


Cytherea - Microsoft Reader eBook

Cytherea eBook

Microsoft Reader

Platforms
Windows PC, Windows Mobile 5.0-6.0, Pocket PC 2003

Features
ClearType, advanced navigation, search, personal library, bookmarks, notes, and drawing.

Availability:
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Price: $2.59


Cytherea - Mobipocket eBook

Cytherea eBook

Mobipocket

Platforms
Windows PC, Palm, Windows Mobile, Pocket PC, Symbian OS, Blackberry, iLiad, and more.

Features
Easy to install, Very Compatible, Touch-screen page turning, Bookmarks, Adjustable font size and color, Search.

Availability:
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Price: $4.00


Cytherea Summary

It is foolish of me, Fanny agreed, "and not complimentary to our love. I have kept you so long over nothing that you will be late for dinner. I don't care!" Her manner bore a foreign trace of abandon in its radiant happiness; and, with spread fingers on his back, she propelled him toward the stairs. But, in their room, he failed to change his clothes: he sat lost in a concentration of thought, of summoned determination.

It was, probably, Lee Randon realized, the last time he would play golf that year. He concluded this standing on a shorn hill about which the country was spread in sere diminishing tones to the grey horizon. Below, a stream held a cold glimmer in a meadow of brown, frost-killed grass; and the wind, the bitter flaws where Lee stood, was thinly scattered with soft crystals of snow. He was alone, no one would play with him so late in the season, and there had been no boy present to carry his clubs.

It was, probably, Lee Randon realized, the last time he would play golf that year. He concluded this standing on a shorn hill about which the country was spread in sere diminishing tones to the grey horizon. Below, a stream held a cold glimmer in a meadow of brown, frost-killed grass; and the wind, the bitter flaws where Lee stood, was thinly scattered with soft crystals of snow. He was alone, no one would play with him so late in the season, and there had been no boy present to carry his clubs...



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