“Edward Hayden had been standing at the window, looking at the rain falling in slanting lines across the earth. December had brought some snow, but that had faded, and now Edward drummed his fingers on the windowsill nervously and turned to say with some irritation, “I hate this kind of weather!” “Sit down, dear. You’re gong to wear yourself out,” Heather said. She nodded to the chair upholstered in a design of damask roses, its wooden arms heavily carved. An antimacassar protected the back of t...he chair, and as Edward came over and threw himself into the chair, she said, “Try not to be agitated, dear.” “I’ll try.” Taking a deep breath, Edward looked around the room, contemplating the deep wine-red curtains and the muted pink of the embossed wallpaper. The proportions of the wallpaper were perfect, and he had always liked it, but now he was thinking of things other than the beauty of a room. Finally he turned and said abruptly, “Perhaps we should have told the family what’s going on, Heather.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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