The Titan
Theodore Dreiser
Language: English
Pages: 314
ISBN: 1540583074
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Dreiser's second novel of a three book series, the first being The Financier, continues the saga of Frank Cowperwood's quest for power and wealth through the use of financial acumen found in only a relatively few individuals. While written as fiction, the novel is also a wonderful history lesson of the political structure and shenanigans employed by the political and financial mavens of that period. The characters and events of the late 19th century are brought to life through Dreiser's rich and descriptive prose. Relatively few authors are able to attain the degree of detail Dreiser devotes to his plot and characters, all the while employing word usage in such as a way as to create a virtual masterpiece.
quatre premier any more for a while. Suppose you double a thirteen—you lost on that—and play Bates’s formula. I’ll show you what that is.” Already, because he was known to be a plunger, Lynde was gathering a few spectators behind him, and Aileen, fascinated, and not knowing these mysteries of chance, was content to watch him. At one stage of the playing Lynde leaned over and, seeing her smile, whispered: “What adorable hair and eyes you have! You glow like a great rose. You have a radiance that
Aileen, though really it was not needed. On arriving at Chicago she had sought and discovered a French maid. Although she had brought plenty of dresses from Philadelphia, she had been having additional winter costumes prepared by the best and most expensive mistress of the art in Chicago—Theresa Donovan. Only the day before she had welcomed home a golden-yellow silk under heavy green lace, which, with her reddish-gold hair and her white arms and neck, seemed to constitute an unusual harmony. Her
shoes; he looked for all the world like a country drug or book store owner, with perhaps the air of a country doctor or lawyer superadded. His cuffs protruded too far from his coat-sleeves, his necktie bulged too far out of his vest, and his high hat was set a little too far back on his forehead; otherwise he was acceptable, pleasant, and interesting. He had short side-burns—reddish brown—which stuck out quite defiantly, and his eyebrows were heavy. “Mr. Sippens,” said Cowperwood, blandly, “you
He was so airy, artistic in an unconscious way. Really, she had thought better of him. The effect of all this was not wholly depressing. Enigmatic, disdainful, with a touch of melancholy and a world of gaiety and courage, Berenice heard at times behind joy the hollow echo of unreality. Here was a ticklish business, this living. For want of light and air the finest flowers might die. Her mother’s error was not so inexplicable now. By it had she not, after all, preserved herself and her family to
hands. “Let him get in some affair,” Cowperwood told Rita. “We’ll put detectives on his trail and get evidence. He won’t have a word to say.” “We don’t really need to do that,” she protested sweetly, naively. “He’s been in enough scrapes as it is. He’s given me some of the letters—” (she pronounced it “lettahs”)—“written him.” “But we’ll need actual witnesses if we ever need anything at all. Just tell me when he’s in love again, and I’ll do the rest.” “You know I think,” she drawled,