Always after breakfast there was this pleasant ritual. She would
plod all round the house, duster in hand, picking things up. giving
them a little flick and putting them back again, patting treasures
that she especially loved, sighing heavily with satisfaction at the
pleasant sight of all her possessions tranquilly in their right
places. As she looked around the ugly sitting-room and saw the red
glazed pots with the ferns, the faded football-groups, the worsted
mats and the china shepherdesses, a rich warm feeling rose in her
heart and filled her whole body. It was like a fine meal to a hungry
man: every morning at half-past nine she was hungry in this fashion,
and every morning by eleven o'clock she was satisfied. Her thick
body thus promenaded the house; she was like a stolid policeman in
female attire, going his rounds to see that all was well. From room
to room she went, pausing to pant for breath on the stairs,
stumbling always because of her short sight at the three dark little
steps just outside Paul's bedroom, always sitting down on her bed
"to take a breath" and to get a full gaze at the crucifix of bright
yellow wood, that hung just under her mother's picture.
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