In a room with a bow-window looking on the road there were
three persons. An old man was reading a paper in an arm-chair by the
fire, with his back to the light. He looked a nice old man, with his
clear skin and white hair; opposite him was an old lady in another
chair, reading a letter. With his back to the fire stood a man of about
thirty-five, sturdy-looking, but pale, and with an appearance of being
somewhat overworked. He had a good face, but seemed a little
uninteresting, as if he did not feed his mind. The table had been spread
for breakfast, and the meal was finished and partly cleared away. The
room was ugly and the furniture was a little shabby; there was a glazed
bookcase, full of dull-looking books, a sideboard, a table with writing
materials in the window, and some engravings of royal groups and
celebrated men.
The younger man, after a moment, said, "Well, I must be off." He nodded
to his father, and bent down to kiss his mother, saying, "Take care of
yourself--I shall be back in good time for tea." I had a sense that he
was using these phrases in a mechanical way, and that they were
customary with him.
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