A Glass of Blessings

Yes, life has to go on, and I suppose a cup of tea does make it seem to be doing that more than anything.

When I was young,’ said Sybil, ‘women didn’t go to funerals, for some reason or other it wasn’t customary. Perhaps one can see why. Women nearly always outlive men, and I suppose it may have been a kind of subconscious jealousy — the men wouldn’t want to have the women standing there in the cemetery, triumphant at having outlived them.

Miss Limpsett was older, uglier and more untidy than I had remembered. She had obviously had a hard and tiring day, for her grey hair was awry as if she had been running her fingers through it, and there was ink on her fingers. Her face was haggard, and it occurred to me that it was not only this day which had been hard and tiring, but all days and even life itself.

I suppose by the time one is seventy one can say confidently and from a personal experiece that things will pass. At thirty one is still living experimentally, guessing that they will yet almost hoping that they will not.

We shall be able to see to her material comforts,’ she said. ‘That’s the least we can do.’ ‘I should have thought it was also the most,’ said Rodney.