Libation bearers online dating totaly free cam sex
As Aunt Becky knew from A to Z all the sad or fantastic or terrible little histories of the clan, no one had armour which her shafts could not penetrate.
One endured the digs and slams one got oneself for the fun of seeing other people writhing under their digs and slams.
Really, no one had ever thought of Aunt Becky dying. It would be fun to watch the antics of the clan over the jug.
The thorough-going, impartial fun of one who was not vitally concerned.
Aunt Becky had held occasional gatherings that she called "levees" ever since she had gone to live at The Pinery. You're going to see the century out." "No, I'm not," said Aunt Becky. You know perfectly well that in the back of your mind you're thinking, 'After she dies I'll be able to have my tea strong.' There's no use blinking the truth or trying to cover it up with sentiment. "Camilla," snapped Aunt Becky, "I beg of you to stop trying to cry. I had to send Ambrosine out because I couldn't put up with her mewing. I'm not going to bother with that sort of thing on my death-bed." Uncle Pippin was genuinely disappointed.
It was her habit to announce in the local papers that Mrs Rebecca Dark would entertain her friends on such and such an afternoon. Nothing exciting has happened for a long time." "This will be exciting enough," said Aunt Becky. "Roger told Camilla this morning that I wouldn't live this year out. Nobody cares anything about me now." "Why do you say that, Becky? I've survived all my real friends." "Come, come, what about me? Aunt Becky turned her cronelike old grey head towards him. Ambrosine cries over everything alike--a death or a spoiled pudding. It's about the only fun she's ever got out of life. I've felt almost everything in life there is to feel--ay, I've drained my cup. Living alone as he did, subsisting on widower's fare, the occasional meals and lunches he got in friends' houses meant much to him. But old Theodore Dark had expressly left it to his dearly beloved wife in his will, and there you were. And nobody in eighty-five years had ever been able to predict what Aunt Becky would do about anything.
She had a tiny income of her own and Camilla, being neither a Dark nor a Penhallow, was easily bossed.