He looked about him with pleasure. His possessions - the dearest of them still busy with her mending - gave him enormous quiet pride. He liked the grey watered silk wallpaper that had been new when they married twelve years ago, and was now comfortably grubby. He liked the sofa, the armchairs and the two prim little occasional chairs, flanking the sofa, all upholstered in good dark red velvet. He liked the heavy mahogany sideboard, richly carved, and crowded permanently with silver, china, bronze, as well as the ephemera of daily living such a s letters awaiting answers, bundles of knitting, indigestion tablets, and spectacle cases."
Have not tried the Caxley Chronicles but am reading the village books now. Love Miss Read!
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