oor that stood open from morning to night, winter and summer, and paused there to light his cigar. All his characteristics were accented in the lustre of the vivid day, albeit for the most part they were of a null, negative tendency, for he had an inexpressive, impersonal manner and a sort of aloof, reserved dignity. His outward aspect seemed rather the affair of his up-to-date metropolitan tailor and barber than any exponent of his character and mind. He was not much beyond thirty years of age, and his straight, fine, dark hair was worn at the temples more by the fluctuations of stocks than the ravages of time. He was pale, of medium height, and slight of build; he listened with a grave, deliberate attention and an inscrutable gray eye, very steady, coolly observant, an appreciable asset in the brokerage business. He was all unaccustomed to the waste of time, and it was with no slight degree of impatience that he looked about him.
The magnolia grove filled the space to the half-seen gate in front of t
A rather mild ghost story, set in pre-Civil War Louisiana. The whites do nothing, the slaves are superstitious, and the terrible secret that stuns and disturbs the cousin and doctor is rather underwhelming.
The writing is okay, but at the end of the story, I was a little teed off that I hadn't been doing something else instead.