By Charlotte Armstrong
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Extra info for A Dram of Poison
He had seen himself do it, but he had looked away. So had Rosemary seen it. She had even warned him. But now it was too late. He had constituted himself as the holder of the carrot of hope before this donkey's nose . . without which she might stop, cease, or even die. . Meantime, dealers came to look at the furniture and offer contemptuous minimums. The books were worth pitifully little in cash. One day a man said he'd give fifty dollars for the ancient car. By the time Rosemary conferred with Mr.
On the second morning, he went in to remove her breakfast tray and saw that she was lying against the pillow with her face turned to the window. Between the dainty white margins of the curtains there was visible a patch of ground planted with roses. On her face, for the first time in his knowledge of her, lay a look of peace. "I used to love to sit on the ground with my hands in the dirt," she said to him. "There is something about earth on your hands . " "Yes, there is. And something about light.
Frightened blue eyes, with little folds of skin at the upper outer edges that came down sadly. A lined white brow. Limp, lifeless brown hair. An unpainted mouth, pathetically trying to smile and yet not smile. Well, she could Jook forward now, if ever so little, to tomorrow. "We'll see," said Mr. Gibson, and he smiled in full. " he added cheerfully. " Her eyes changed shape and he saw the flicker of wonder, of hope, and he was quite pleased with himself. On his way home, he fumed. Poor thing! Looked as if a vampire bat had been drinking her blood.
A Dram of Poison by Charlotte Armstrong