3441066That Affair Next Doorhttps://www.gandhi.com.mx/that-affair-next-door-1230000194008/phttps://gandhi.vtexassets.com/arquivos/ids/2392865/421cde41-f099-464a-9a87-2d2fbcc9fe80.jpg?v=6383839141701300006060MXNWDS PublishingInStock/Ebooks/3377438That Affair Next Door6060https://www.gandhi.com.mx/that-affair-next-door-1230000194008/phttps://gandhi.vtexassets.com/arquivos/ids/2392865/421cde41-f099-464a-9a87-2d2fbcc9fe80.jpg?v=638383914170130000InStockMXN99999DIEbook20131230000194008_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_I am not an inquisitive woman, but when, in the middle of a certain warm night in September, I heard a carriage draw up at the adjoining house and stop, I could not resist the temptation of leaving my bed and taking a peep through the curtains of my window.   First: because the house was empty, or supposed to be so, the family still being, as I had every reason to believe, in Europe; and secondly: because, not being inquisitive, I often miss in my lonely and single life much that it would be both interesting and profitable for me to know.   Luckily I made no such mistake this evening. I rose and looked out, and though I was far from realizing it at the time, took, by so doing, my first step in a course of inquiry which has ended----   But it is too soon to speak of the end. Rather let me tell you what I saw when I parted the curtains of my window in Gramercy Park, on the night of September 17, 1895.   Not much at first glance, only a common hack drawn up at the neighboring curbstone. The lamp which is supposed to light our part of the block is some rods away on the opposite side of the street, so that I obtained but a shadowy glimpse of a young man and woman standing below me on the pavement. I could see, however, that the woman--and not the man--was putting money into the drivers hand. The next moment they were on the stoop of this long-closed house, and the coach rolled off.   It was dark, as I have said, and I did not recognize the young people,--at least their figures were not familiar to me; but when, in another instant, I heard the click of a night-key, and saw them, after a rather tedious fumbling at the lock, disappear from the stoop, I took it for granted that the gentleman was Mr. Van Burnams eldest son Franklin, and the lady some relative of the family; though why this, its most punctilious member, should bring a guest at so late an hour into a house devoid of everything necessary to make the least exacting visitor comfortable, was a mystery that I retired to bed to meditate upon.   I did not succeed in solving it, however, and after some ten minutes had elapsed, I was settling myself again to sleep when I was re-aroused by a fresh sound from the quarter mentioned. The door I had so lately heard shut, opened again, and though I had to rush for it, I succeeded in getting to my window in time to catch a glimpse of the departing figure of the young man hurrying away towards Broadway. The young woman was not with him, and as I realized that he had left her behind him in the great, empty house, without apparent light and certainly without any companion, I began to question if this was like Franklin Van Burnam. Was it not more in keeping with the recklessness of his more easy-natured and less reliable brother, Howard, who, some two or three years back, had married a young wife of no very satisfactory antecedents, and who, as I had heard, had been ostracized by the family in consequence?  ...(*_*)1230000194008_I am not an inquisitive woman, but when, in the middle of a certain warmnight in September, I heard a carriage draw up at the adjoining houseand stop, I could not resist the temptation of leaving my bed and takinga peep through the curtains of my window.First: because the house was empty, or supposed to be so, the familystill being, as I had every reason to believe, in Europe; and secondly:because, not being inquisitive, I often miss in my lonely and singlelife much that it would be both interesting and profitable for me toknow.Luckily I made no such mistake this evening. I rose and looked out, andthough I was far from realizing it at the time, took, by so doing, myfirst step in a course of inquiry which has ended----But it is too soon to speak of the end. Rather let me tell you what Isaw when I parted the curtains of my window in Gramercy Park, on thenight of September 17, 1895.Not much at first glance, only a common hack drawn up at the neighboringcurbstone. The lamp which is supposed to light our part of the block issome rods away on the opposite side of the street, so that I obtainedbut a shadowy glimpse of a young man and woman standing below me on thepavement. I could see, however, that the woman--and not the man--wasputting money into the drivers hand. The next moment they were on thestoop of this long-closed house, and the coach rolled off.It was dark, as I have said, and I did not recognize the youngpeople,--at least their figures were not familiar to me; but when, inanother instant, I heard the click of a night-key, and saw them, after arather tedious fumbling at the lock, disappear from the stoop, I took itfor granted that the gentleman was Mr. Van Burnams eldest son Franklin,and the lady some relative of the family; though why this, its mostpunctilious member, should bring a guest at so late an hour into a housedevoid of everything necessary to make the least exacting visitorcomfortable, was a mystery that I retired to bed to meditate upon.I did not succeed in solving it, however, and after some ten minutes hadelapsed, I was settling myself again to sleep when I was re-aroused by afresh sound from the quarter mentioned. The door I had so lately heardshut, opened again, and though I had to rush for it, I succeeded ingetting to my window in time to catch a glimpse of the departing figureof the young man hurrying away towards Broadway. The young woman was notwith him, and as I realized that he had left her behind him in thegreat, empty house, without apparent light and certainly without anycompanion, I began to question if this was like Franklin Van Burnam. Wasit not more in keeping with the recklessness of his more easy-naturedand less reliable brother, Howard, who, some two or three years back,had married a young wife of no very satisfactory antecedents, and who,as I had heard, had been ostracized by the family in consequence?...1230000194008_WDS Publishinglibro_electonico_337c8f48-3767-393f-a608-b36590f3be59_1230000194008;1230000194008_1230000194008Anna KatharineInglésMéxicohttps://getbook.kobo.com/koboid-prod-public/5da545ee-3339-47e6-97c4-a4393d41376e-epub-7a932a2e-10df-4d8a-a50e-5dd165e8439e.epub2013-11-02T00:00:00+00:00WDS Publishing