“Go on, Mother,” he said.
She smiled at him—a swift, mysterious smile, neither bitter nor ironical, but proud and contemptuous, like the dip of a falcon’s wing in a farmyard-tank.
“Go on, Mother,” he said.
She smiled at him—a swift, mysterious smile, neither bitter nor ironical, but proud and contemptuous, like the dip of a falcon’s wing in a farmyard-tank.