Mrs Palfrey At the Claremont
“Perhaps from his father he had his sense of duty, and from his mother its sporadic quality. She still – even now – seemed to feel a little of it towards him, occasionally sent him a birthday-card of sick humour, or a funny anecdote to write into his novel: once, had pressed on him a pair of the Major’s socks she could not be bothered to mend. They were a mustard yellow. ‘Perhaps really fit only for Oxfam,’ she suggested doubtfully. ‘Oh, they’ll come in,’ he had said cheerfully, unable to hurt a...nyone. Even in disposing of them, he had hoped they would come in. Some tramp or drop-out might peel them off the gilded railing-points outside the Garibaldi Hotel, and be glad of them.
‘Just dropped in as I was passing,’ he said, when his mother opened the door of the house in Putney. (And he thought, I rather doubt if we’ve ever said anything true to one another since I was about six, and learned better.) He followed her up the stairs to her flat on the first floor: her rump slid from side to side as she went, but under control, not floppy.MoreLess
‘Just dropped in as I was passing,’ he said, when his mother opened the door of the house in Putney. (And he thought, I rather doubt if we’ve ever said anything true to one another since I was about six, and learned better.) He followed her up the stairs to her flat on the first floor: her rump slid from side to side as she went, but under control, not floppy.MoreLess
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