Читать книгу The Blind Man's House. A Quiet Story онлайн

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They looked at one another. He was changed. His mouth was set and his eyes angry.

'I'm going to ask at once, now, as soon as we go down.'

'Yes. We'd better go down. It's time.'

Simon got up from the floor. He enjoyed going down to the drawing-room. He enjoyed practically everything except cold fat, barking dogs, and women who kissed him.

'Here. Let me brush your hair.'

He had a lot of light brown hair that would, unless he was careful, fall over his forehead into his eyes. One of his most characteristic gestures was tossing his hair back from his eyes. Then he was like a little pony stamping.

He slept in a room with Gilbert, and into that they now went. He stood grinning while Dorothy brushed his hair. He looked so pleasant, so independent and sturdy in his blue smock, that Dorothy would have kissed him had she not known how greatly he disliked it.

He rushed down the stairs crying out: 'Mum—Mum—Mum.'

However, when they reached the drawing-room only their father was there. He stood in front of the fireplace, which was defended by a very hideous screen of green elephants walking up to pink pagodas. As usual, Simon rushed up to him and hugged him round the thighs, and as usual Mr. Brennan looked at his offspring as though he had never seen them before.