She was unusually helpful at breakfast, and unselfish about the eggs: and then she went off to catch the train before her father’s. She had been forced to buy herself that pair of boots and a walking-skirt, and the pearl necklace at the pawnbrokers’ had yielded very disappointingly. His eyes glowed beneath the glasses and his blue buttondown shirt was reflected in the lenses. It struck his forehead, splitting it, and brought him to his knees. He then unfolded his choice and held it before her face. She looked down at him and saw that the sunlight was gleaming from his cheeks, and that all over his cheeks was a fine golden down of delicate hairs. A couple of gilt straight-backed chairs only. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat.
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