| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Son of Tarzan by Edgar Rice Burroughs: himself of this without detection, well and good; but were he to
meet resistance he was prepared for that too. The lad's clothes
lay across a chair beside the bed. The American's fingers felt
swiftly through them--the pockets contained no roll of crisp,
new notes. Doubtless they were beneath the pillows of the bed.
He stepped closer toward the sleeper; his hand was already half
way beneath the pillow when the thick cloud that had obscured
the moon rolled aside and the room was flooded with light.
At the same instant the boy opened his eyes and looked straight
into those of Condon. The man was suddenly conscious that the
boy was alone in the bed. Then he clutched for his victim's throat.
The Son of Tarzan |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from St. Ives by Robert Louis Stevenson: expressed some wonder at the purchase of the claret-coloured
chaise, I put him promptly in his place. In our situation, I told
him, everything had to be sacrificed to appearances; doubtless, in
a hired chaise, we should have had more freedom, but look at the
dignity! I was so positive, that I had sometimes almost convinced
myself. Not for long, you may be certain! This detestable
conveyance always appeared to me to be laden with Bow Street
officers, and to have a placard upon the back of it publishing my
name and crimes. If I had paid seventy pounds to get the thing, I
should not have stuck at seven hundred to be safely rid of it.
And if the chaise was a danger, what an anxiety was the despatch-
|
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Professor by Charlotte Bronte: size, denoted a remote antiquity; a little, old-fashioned silver
spoon was deposited in each saucer; and a pair of silver tongs,
equally old-fashioned, were laid on the sugar-basin; from the
cupboard, too, was produced a tidy silver cream-ewer, not larger
then an egg-shell. While making these preparations, she chanced
to look up, and, reading curiosity in my eyes, she smiled and
asked--
"Is this like England, monsieur?"
"Like the England of a hundred years ago," I replied.
"Is it truly? Well, everything on this tray is at least a
hundred years old: these cups, these spoons, this ewer, are all
The Professor |
