DOI article:
Christian, Susan: Two hours: two women
DOI Page / Citation link: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.27806#0185
Two Hours : Two Women
By Susan Christian
Between the Cotswold hills and the Severn river lies a widely-
spreading town, with innumerable church spires rising from
the midst of its glistening rows of white stucco villas and unimposing
terraces. The more “ fashionable ” parts of this town are, in
August, a great opportunity for the study of window-blinds, for
at the end of July one house after another looks down on an
agitation of departure in front of its door, and then seems with
fatigued relief to drop its faded eyelids and bask tranquilly in the
hot silence. In a month or six weeks’ time its pleasurable torpor
will be rudely disturbed by rattling brooms and buckets, and then,
with its stair carpets in new creases and its window-boxes run to
seed, it will stand ready to endure for another spell the life that
will presently pour back into it.
Number 50, however, was not entirely deserted ; it was com-
pletely noiseless, but the front door was open and the gas was
alight in the dining-room. On the stairs, at the top of the second
landing, there was sitting in the dusk a very tiny boy in his night-
shirt ; his small arms were clasped tightly round his spare knees,
and his little outstretched ears had the funny aspect of being
“cocked” like those of a terrier; he was tensely listening to the
profound stillness.
The Yellow Book—Vol. VII. L
He
By Susan Christian
Between the Cotswold hills and the Severn river lies a widely-
spreading town, with innumerable church spires rising from
the midst of its glistening rows of white stucco villas and unimposing
terraces. The more “ fashionable ” parts of this town are, in
August, a great opportunity for the study of window-blinds, for
at the end of July one house after another looks down on an
agitation of departure in front of its door, and then seems with
fatigued relief to drop its faded eyelids and bask tranquilly in the
hot silence. In a month or six weeks’ time its pleasurable torpor
will be rudely disturbed by rattling brooms and buckets, and then,
with its stair carpets in new creases and its window-boxes run to
seed, it will stand ready to endure for another spell the life that
will presently pour back into it.
Number 50, however, was not entirely deserted ; it was com-
pletely noiseless, but the front door was open and the gas was
alight in the dining-room. On the stairs, at the top of the second
landing, there was sitting in the dusk a very tiny boy in his night-
shirt ; his small arms were clasped tightly round his spare knees,
and his little outstretched ears had the funny aspect of being
“cocked” like those of a terrier; he was tensely listening to the
profound stillness.
The Yellow Book—Vol. VII. L
He