This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic, timeless works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.

'The Lure of the Mask' is a novel by Harold MacGrath and one of his best selling books. The story opens with a jump--literally. A young New Yorker, rich, of course, hears from his window on a night of fog and mist a woman's voice singing divinely. He falls in love with it head over heels and he falls downstairs in about the same way, he is in such a hurry to see the singer. But by the time she reaches the street, lo! She has vanished, and only a policeman remains. Later on, this young, adventurous Mr. Hillard again meets the young, adventurous singer under most mystifying circumstances.

Out of the unromantic night, out of the somber blurring January fog, came a voice lifted insong, a soprano, rich, full and round, young, yet matured, sweet and mysterious as a nightbird's, haunting and elusive as the murmur of the sea in a shell: a lilt from La Fille deMadame Angot, a light opera long since forgotten in New York. Hillard, genuinelyastonished, lowered his pipe and listened. To sit dreaming by an open window, even in thisunlovely first month of the year, in that grim unhandsome city which boasts of its richesand still accepts with smug content its rows upon rows of ugly architecture, to sitdreaming, then, of red-tiled roofs, of cloud-caressed hills, of terraced vineyards, ofcypresses in their dark aloofness, is not out of the natural order of things; but that into thisidle and pleasant dream there should enter so divine a voice, living, feeling, pulsing, thiswas not ordinary at all.And Hillard was glad that the room was in darkness. He rose eagerly and peered out. But hesaw no one. Across the street the arc-lamp burned dimly, like an opal in the matrix, while ofarchitectural outlines not one remained, the fog having kindly obliterated them.The Voice rose and sank and soared again, drawing nearer and nearer. It was joyous andunrestrained, and there was youth in it, the touch of spring and the breath of flowers. Themusic was Lecocq's, that is to say, French; but the tongue was of a country which Hillardknew to be the garden of the world. Presently he observed a shadow emerge from theyellow mist, to come within the circle of light, which, faint as it was, limned in against thenothingness beyond the form of a woman. She walked directly under his window.

A 1908 review of the book summarizes the light plot of the story in overenthusiastic fashion: The story opens with a jump--literally. A young New Yorker, rich, of course, hears from his window on a night of fog and mist a woman's voice singing divinely. He falls in love with it head over heels and he falls downstairs in about the same way, he is such a hurry to see the singer. But by the time her reaches the street, lo! she has vanished, and only a policeman remains. Late on, this young, adventurous Mr. Hillard again meets the young, adventurous singer under most mystifying circumstances. They dine together, but she comes in mask. What the voice has begun, the masks puts the finishing touches to. From then on Hillard is full forty fathoms deep in love and curiosity. Then the scene shifts to Italy, with the shifting fortunes of an American comic opera company, stranded at Venice. The beautiful singer becomes the prima donna of this company. The soubrette is one Kitty Killigrew, and around her flourishes a most enticing, exciting and enlivening subplot. She dances her way straight into your heart. Amusing things happen at Venice. Thrilling things happen at Monte Carlo. At Florence the climax is reached, and it makes you fairly gasp with its intense interest. At Bellagio, the loveliest of lovely spots in the land of love, the curtain goes down on happy lovers.[2