Lady Laura Teresa Alma-Tadema paintings

Lady Laura Teresa Alma-Tadema paintings
Louise Abbema paintings
Leonardo da Vinci paintings
dumbfounded.
At length, even more laboriously than he was wont, he continued upward. Angela was in bed reading.
“You’re early.”
“Peter was there. No one else I knew except old Ambrose. Some booby made a speech. So I came away.”
“Very wise.”
Basil stood before Angela’s long looking glass. He could see her behind him. She put on her spectacles and picked up her book.
“Angela, I don’t drink much nowadays, do I?”
“Not as much as you used.”
“Or eat?”
“More.”
“But you’d say I led a temperate?”
“Yes, on the whole.”
“It’s just age,” said Basil. “And dammit, I’m not sixty yet.”
“What’s worrying you, darling?”
“It’s when I meet young men. A choking feeling—as if I was going to have an apoplectic seizure. I once saw a fellow in a seizure, must have been about the age I am now—the Lieutenant Colonel of the Bombardiers. It was a most unpleasant spectacle. I’ve been feeling lately something like that might strike me any day. I believe I ought to take a cure.”
“I’ll come too.”
“Will you really, Angela? You are a saint.”