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Blood Upon the Snow - Hilda Lawrence
1954 UK Penguin paperback 1st edition - London A reading copy The book has lean to spine, a little tanning and wear No previous owner names etc tighly bound Mystey surrounds the guests invited to a beautiful remote house in the hills - very well written and desrving of wider recognition A readers rather than collectors copy For Sale at £4.50 (approx $9) *b9
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Death of a Doll - Hilda Lawrence
1954 UK Penguin paperback 1st edition - London A VG indeed copy Tightly bound and square No previous owner names etc tighly bound The body of a woman is found battered to death in the courtyard of a girl's hostel A nice copy For Sale at £5 (approx $10) *b9
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ANGELINE SMALL stepped out of the lift at five o'clock and nodded to Kitty Brice behind the switchboard. 'Cold!' she said with a bright grimace. 'Have they lighted the fire in the lounge?' 'Yes, Miss Small.' 'Good,' Miss Small said. But she walked briskly across the square lobby and checked for herself. There was only one girl in the lounge, a night worker in a Western Union office who went off to her job when the other girls came home. Miss Small found this routine confusing. When she went to her own bed at midnight, after coffee and gossip with Monny, she wanted to know that all of her seventy girls were safe and sound in their seventy good, though narrow, cots, sleeping correctly and dreamlessly because they were properly nourished and had no ugly little troubles that they hadn't confessed. Miss Small switched on more lights, approved the fire and the bowls of fresh chrysanthemums, and spoke to the girl who was huddled in a deep chair with her eyes closed. 'Good evening, Lillian. Or should it be good morning?' The girl looked up with a long, insolent stare and closed her eyes again. Time for a little heart-to-heart talk with this one, Miss Small decided. Mustn't have sulks and surliness, such a bad example for the others. Perhaps a tiny note in her mailbox, an invitation to a nice cup of tea in my room. These poor, love-starved babies, I must do all I can. 'Isn't that a new coat, dear?' she asked. |
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