The Wheels of Chance: A Bicycling Idyll. Герберт Уэллс

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The Wheels of Chance: A Bicycling Idyll - Герберт Уэллс


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       H. G. Wells

      The Wheels of Chance: A Bicycling Idyll

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4057664108586

       I. THE PRINCIPAL CHARACTER IN THE STORY

       II

       III

       IV. THE RIDING FORTH OF MR. HOOPDRIVER

       V. THE SHAMEFUL EPISODE OF THE YOUNG LADY IN GREY

       VI. ON THE ROAD TO RIPLEY

       VII.

       VIII.

       IX. HOW MR. HOOPDRIVER WAS HAUNTED

       X. THE IMAGININGS OF MR. HOOPDRIVER'S HEART

       XI. OMISSIONS

       XII. THE DREAMS OF MR. HOOPDRIVER

       XIII. HOW MR. HOOPDRIVER WENT TO HASLEMERE

       XIV. HOW MR. HOOPDRIVER REACHED MIDHURST

       XV. AN INTERLUDE

       XVI. OF THE ARTIFICIAL IN MAN, AND OF THE ZEITGEIST

       XVII. THE ENCOUNTER AT MIDHURST

       XVIII.

       XIX.

       XX. THE PURSUIT

       XXI. AT BOGNOR

       XXII.

       XXIII.

       XXIV. THE MOONLIGHT RIDE

       XXV.

       XXVI. THE SURBITON INTERLUDE

       XXVII. THE AWAKENING OF MR. HOOPDRIVER

       XXVIII. THE DEPARTURE FROM CHICHESTER

       XXIX. THE UNEXPECTED ANECDOTE OF THE LION

       XXX. THE RESCUE EXPEDITION

       XXXI.

       XXXII. MR. HOOPDRIVER, KNIGHT ERRANT

       XXXIII. THE ABASEMENT OF MR. HOOPDRIVER

       XXXIV.

       XXXV.

       XXXVI.

       XXXVII. IN THE NEW FOREST

       XXXVIII. AT THE RUFUS STONE

       XXXIX.

       XL.

       XLI. THE ENVOY

       Table of Contents

      If you (presuming you are of the sex that does such things)—if you had gone into the Drapery Emporium—which is really only magnificent for shop—of Messrs. Antrobus & Co.—a perfectly fictitious “Co.,” by the bye—of Putney, on the 14th of August, 1895, had turned to the right-hand side, where the blocks of white linen and piles of blankets rise up to the rail from which the pink and blue prints depend, you might have been served by the central figure of this story that is now beginning. He would have come forward, bowing and swaying, he would have extended two hands with largish knuckles and enormous cuffs over the counter, and he would have asked you, protruding a pointed chin and without the slightest anticipation of pleasure in his manner, what he might have the pleasure of showing you. Under certain circumstances—as, for instance, hats, baby linen, gloves, silks, lace, or curtains—he would simply have bowed politely, and with a drooping expression, and making a kind of circular sweep, invited you to “step this way,” and so led you beyond his ken; but under other and happier conditions—huckaback, blankets, dimity, cretonne, linen, calico, are cases in point—he would have requested you to take a seat, emphasising the hospitality by leaning over the counter and gripping a chair back in a spasmodic manner, and so proceeded to obtain, unfold, and exhibit his goods for your consideration. Under which happier circumstances you might—if of an observing turn of mind and not too much of a housewife to be inhuman—have given the central figure of this story less cursory attention.

      Now if you had noticed anything about him, it would


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