“He was tall and sturdy, handsome like the majority of those from that part of the world where he was born, with a strong aquiline face rather softened by his black beard. For work he dressed like an English country gentleman, even though the Belgrave Nursery was in the heart of Victoria, and today he wore fawn-coloured cavalry twill trousers, a brushed cotton check shirt with dark green knitted tie, and a lighter green tweed jacket with leather pads on the elbows. If half his mind was intent on... checking that the full complement of cypresses, macrocarpas and thujas were in stock, the other half was thinking about his daughter Rabia. He was worrying about her and the sad disappointed life she led, and she so pretty and modest and quiet, when, turning the corner into the next aisle, the one between the ericas and the lavenders, he saw her coming towards him from the Warwick Way entrance. She was pushing a new pushchair, the grandest Abram had ever seen, a coach fit for a prince, but she looked rather small to be in charge of such a splendid equipage and such a big lusty boy.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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