by Katherine Mansfield
And after all the weather was ideal. They could not have had a more perfect day for a garden-party if they had ordered it. Windless, warm, the sky without a cloud. Only the blue was veiled with … Read the rest
Category: Katherine Mansfield
The Lady’s Maid
by Katherine Mansfield
Eleven o’clock. A knock at the door … I hope I haven’t disturbed you, madam. You weren’t asleep – were you? But I’ve just given my lady her tea, and there was such a nice cup over, … Read the rest
The Little Governess
by Katherine Mansfield
OH, dear, how she wished that it wasn’t night-time. She’d have much rather travelled by day, much much rather. But the lady at the Governess Bureau said: “You had better take an evening boat and then if … Read the rest
The Man Without a Temperament
by Katherine Mansfield
He stood at the hall door turning the ring, turning the heavy signet ring upon his little finger while his glance travelled coolly, deliberately, over the round tables and basket chairs scattered about the glassed-in veranda. He … Read the rest
The Singing Lesson
by Katherine Mansfield
With despair – cold, sharp despair – buried deep in her heart like a wicked knife, Miss Meadows, in cap and gown and carrying a little baton, trod the cold corridors that led to the music hall. … Read the rest
The Stranger
by Katherine Mansfield
It seemed to the little crowd on the wharf that she was never going to move again. There she lay, immense, motionless on the grey crinkled water, a loop of smoke above her, an immense flock of … Read the rest
Feuille D’Album
by Katherine Mansfield
HE really was an impossible person. Too shy altogether. With absolutely nothing to say for himself. And such a weight. Once he was in your studio he never knew when to go, but would sit on and … Read the rest
Her First Ball
by Katherine Mansfield
Exactly when the ball began Leila would have found it hard to say. Perhaps her first real partner was the cab. It did not matter that she shared the cab with the Sheridan girls and their brother. … Read the rest
Je Ne Parle Pas Francais
by Katherine Mansfield
I DO not know why I have such a fancy for this little café. It’s dirty and sad, sad. It’s not as if it had anything to distinguish it from a hundred others–it hasn’t; or as if … Read the rest
Life of Ma Parker
by Katherine Mansfield
When the literary gentleman, whose flat old Ma Parker cleaned every Tuesday, opened the door to her that morning, he asked after her grandson. Ma Parker stood on the doormat inside the dark little hall, and she … Read the rest