For Carl Van Vechten and Fania Marinoff One three centuries removed From the scenes his fathers loved, Spicy grove, cinnamon tree, What is Africa to me? Countée Cullen It was the last letter in Irene ...

It was the last letter in Irene Redfield’s little pile of morning mail. After her other ordinary and clearly directed letters the long envelope of thin Italian paper with its almost illegible scrawl s...

It was the last letter in Irene Redfield’s little pile of morning mail. After her other ordinary and clearly directed letters the long envelope of thin Italian paper with its almost illegible scrawl s...

This is what Irene Redfield remembered. Chicago. August. A brilliant day, hot, with a brutal staring sun pouring down rays that were like molten rain. A day on which the very outlines of the buildings...

On Tuesday morning a dome of grey sky rose over the parched city, but the stifling air was not relieved by the silvery mist that seemed to hold a promise of rain, which did not fall. To Irene Redfield...

The next morning, the day of her departure for New York, had brought a letter, which, at first glance, she had instinctively known came from Clare Kendry, though she couldn’t remember ever having had ...

Such were Irene Redfield’s memories as she sat there in her room, a flood of October sunlight streaming in upon her, holding that second letter of Clare Kendry’s. Laying it aside, she regarded with an...

Such were Irene Redfield’s memories as she sat there in her room, a flood of October sunlight streaming in upon her, holding that second letter of Clare Kendry’s. Laying it aside, she regarded with an...

Five days had gone by since Clare Kendry’s appealing letter. Irene Redfield had not replied to it. Nor had she had any other word from Clare. She had not carried out her first intention of writing at ...

The things which Irene Redfield remembered afterward about the Negro Welfare League dance seemed, to her, unimportant and unrelated. She remembered the not quite derisive smile with which Brian had cl...

But undistinctive as the dance had seemed, it was, nevertheless, important. For it marked the beginning of a new factor in Irene Redfield’s life, something that left its trace on all the future years ...

The year was getting on towards its end. October, November had gone. December had come and brought with it a little snow and then a freeze and after that a thaw and some soft pleasant days that had in...

The year was getting on towards its end. October, November had gone. December had come and brought with it a little snow and then a freeze and after that a thaw and some soft pleasant days that had in...

But it did matter. It mattered more than anything had ever mattered before. What bitterness! That the one fear, the one uncertainty, that she had felt, Brian’s ache to go somewhere else, should have d...

As if in answer to her wish, the very next day Irene came face to face with Bellew. She had gone downtown with Felise Freeland to shop. The day was an exceptionally cold one, with a strong wind that h...

The next morning brought with it a snowstorm that lasted throughout the day. After a breakfast, which had been eaten almost in silence and which she was relieved to have done with, Irene Redfield ling...

On the Southern coast, between Merton and Shawboro, there is a strip of desolation some half a mile wide and nearly ten miles long between the sea and old fields of ruined plantations. Skirting the ed...

On the Southern coast, between Merton and Shawboro, there is a strip of desolation some half a mile wide and nearly ten miles long between the sea and old fields of ruined plantations. Skirting the ed...

The woman’s brown gaze was immediately on him, though she did not move. She said, “You ain’t in no hurry, is you, Jim Hammer?” It wasn’t, however, entirely a question. “Ah’s in trubble, Mis’ Poole,” t...

Jim Hammer settled down to the racking business of waiting until the approaching danger should have passed him by. Soon savory odors seeped in to him and he realized that he was hungry. He wished that...

Jim Hammer caught his breath. “Well,” the sheriff concluded, “we’ll be gittin’ along. Obadiah was a mighty fine boy. Ef they was all like him⁠—. I’m sorry, Annie. Anything I c’n do let me know.” “Than...