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Jan 28, 1881 — Nov 14, 1955· 74 yrs

UNITED KINGDOM OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND AUTHOR · FICTION · LARGE TYPE

Ruby M. Ayres

Also known as: Ruby Mildred Ayres Pocock, Ruby Ayres

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Ruby Mildred Ayres was born on 28 January 1881 in Watford, Hertfordshire, the third daughter of the marriege formed by Alice (née Whitford) and Charles Pryor Ayres, a London-based architect. In 1909 she married Reginald William Pocock, a insurance broker, and they lived in Harrow until his death in a train accident. As widow without childrens, she moved to her sister's home at Weybridge, Surrey. She started to write as a girl, and her first story was published in a magazine shortly after her marriage, and in 1912 she published her first novel, Castles in Spain. In September 1915, with her first popular success, Richard Chatterton, V.C. (which sold over 50,000 copies in the first three years), she moved publishing houses to Hodder and Stoughton, where she remained until her death in 1955. She wrote over 150 novels and serialised works. Several of her works became films and she did screenwriting for Society for Sale among others. She corresponded with Douglas Sladen, and also was was possibly an inspiration for the P. G. Wodehouse character Rosie M. Banks. She died on 14 November 1955 in a nursing home in Weybridge, aged 74, of a combination of pneumonia and a cerebral thrombosis. She was cremated four days later at Golders Green in north London.

Watford, United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland
Wikipedia

It is only ten miles beyond the city that the river loses its momentum, drooling into the brackish estuary that feeds Iron Bay.

— from The Scar

Most acclaimed

#2

Dark Gentleman

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#1

Master Man

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A boastful strong man learns a lesson harder than his muscles when he encounters one of Nigeria's superheroes in this Hausa tale which explains the origin of thunder.

#3

The Phantom Lover

1979

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Fiery young ‘Nell’ Belden went to Thorndene Castle to escape a lover, not to find one. She was bound by the strict conventions of England’s Regency to a man she could never love, then bound by the ties of passion to a man she could never marry! For at Thorndene, she discovered a new and startling love, a love that was as intense as it was doomed. “You must leave Thorndene!” said the ghost. Then he added, more gently, “I come to warn you, not to harm you. I may never touch you, any more than a shadow may.” “What does that signify?” Nell asked. “Since you are dead, you can have no need or inclination to touch me anyway.” “You can’t know much about men—or ghosts—or how delightful you look in that nightdress, if you believe that,” he said with disturbing sincerity. Nell blushed and pulled the bedclothes over her. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the ghostly figure was gone.

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