Sunset At Blandings
“Strong hands had mowed the lawn till it gleamed in the sunlight, birds sang in the tree tops, bees buzzed in the flower beds. You would not be far wrong, he thought, if you said that all Nature smiled, as he himself was doing. His mood was mellow, its mellowness increased by the fact that, slipping adroitly from the table at the conclusion of lunch, he had secured the hammock under the cedar before the slower Florence could get at it. She came out of the house just after he had moved in, and it... set the seal on his euphoria to note her thwarted look, comparable to that of baffled baronets in melodramas he had seen at the Lyceum and other theatres in his younger days. It was the keystone of his policy always, if possible, to show his sisters, with the exception, of course, of Diana, that they weren’t everybody.
His strategy was effective. Florence took her book elsewhere. But he knew it was too much to expect that his siesta would remain undisturbed indefinitely. Nor did it. Scarcely had his eyes closed and his breathing become deeper, when a respectful finger poked him in the ribs and he woke to see Beach at his side.MoreLess
His strategy was effective. Florence took her book elsewhere. But he knew it was too much to expect that his siesta would remain undisturbed indefinitely. Nor did it. Scarcely had his eyes closed and his breathing become deeper, when a respectful finger poked him in the ribs and he woke to see Beach at his side.MoreLess
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