She was seventy-seven and, after a lifetime of unblemished health, had gardened too late and too long, and had caught a chill which turned into pneumonia. They’ll see me out.Īnd now it seemed that they were going to do just that. For years her daughter Isobel had been trying to persuade her to buy new ones, but They’ll see me out, Tuppy had said, without thinking very much about it. But she loved their familiarity like that of old friends. The sun had bleached their bright roses to a faded pink, and the linings were so threadbare that they could no longer be sent to the cleaners for fear of total disintegration. He stood at the window, with his back to her, framed by the faded curtains which she had chosen forty years before.
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