The Price of Things
Glyn, Elinor
I wrote this book in Paris in the winter of 1917-18 -- in the midst of bombs, and raids, and death. Everyone was keyed up to a strange pitch, and only primitive instincts seemed to stand out distinctly. Life appeared brutal, and our very fashion of speaking, the words we used, the way we looked at things, was more realistic -- coarser -- than in times of peace, when civilization can re-assert itself again. This is why the story shocks some rea...
