Rose and Rose
By E. V. Lucas
22 Apr, 2021
Excerpt from Rose and Rose: A Story
Fifty years ago, when I was a young medical student, I was in the habit of spending as many week-ends as possible at home with my father, to whose practice I was one day to succeed.
On a certain Saturday the only
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Excerpt from Rose and Rose: A Story
Fifty years ago, when I was a young medical student, I was in the habit of spending as many week-ends as possible at home with my father, to whose practice I was one day to succeed.
On a certain Saturday the only other occupants of the railway compartment were an artist and his wife. I knew him to be an artist from certain scraps of his conversation that I overheard, but I should have guessed it also on the evidence of his hands and dress. I don't mean that he wore a black velvet tam-o'-shanter and trousers tight at the ankles, as in plays; but his hands were eloquent, and there was a general careless ease about his tweeds that suggested the antipodes of any commercial or anxious calling.
After a while he turned to me and asked if I knew the town of Lowcester. Less