Daffy, wiping his face with a handkerchief.
'Sometimes one things seems to suit me--ugh, ugh--sometimes another. Going
to town, Mr. Lott?'
'Yes.'
The blunt affirmative was accompanied by a singular grimace, such as might
have been caused by the swallowing of something very unpleasant; and
thereupon followed a silence which allowed Mr. Daffy to recover himself. He
sat with his eyes half closed and head bent, leaning back.
They had a general acquaintance with each other's domestic affairs. Both
were widowers; both lived alone. Mr. Daffy's son was married, and dwelt in
London; the same formula applied to Mr. Lott's daughter. And, as it
happened, the marriages had both been a subject of parental
dissatisfaction. Very rarely had Mr. Lott let fall a word with regard to
his daughter, Mrs. Bowles, but the townsfolk were well aware that he
thought his son-in-law a fool, if not worse; Mrs. Bowles, in the seven
years since her wedding, had only two or three times revisited her father's
house, and her husband never came. A like reticence was maintained by Mr.
Daffy concerning his son Charles Edward, once the hope of his life. At
school the lad had promised well; tailoring could not be thought of for
him; he went into a solicitor's office, and remained there just long enough
to assure himself that he had no turn for the law.
Pages:
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336