Gustave Courbet Woman with a ParrotMary Cassatt Children Playing On The BeachMary Cassatt Young Mother Sewing
really liked making rag rugs. And, above all, and around all, and permeating all, was the smell.
It smelled of long, dull afternoons.
On a cloth-draped sideboard were two small wooden chests flanking a larger one. They must be the famous boxeswith a loaded tray. There was a blur of activity as she performed the alchemical ceremony of making tea, buttering scones, arranging biscuits, hooking sugar tongs on the basin . . . She sat back. Then, as if she had been in a state of repose for twenty minutes, she trilled slightly breathlessly: ‘Well . . . isn’t this nice.’
YES, MISS FLITWORTH.
‘Don’t often have occasion to open up the parlour these days.’
NO. full of treasure, he thought. He became aware of ticking.There was a clock on the wall. Someone had once had what they must have thought was the jolly idea of makinga clock like an owl. When the pendulum swung, the owl’s eyes went backwards and forwards in what the seriously starved of entertainment probably imagined was a humorous way. After a while. your own eyes started to oscillate in sympathy.Miss Flitworth bustled in
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