Peter was walking home after a party at the Rossiters'. It was the first
time that he had been invited to their house and it had been a great
success. Dr. Rossiter was a little round fat man with snow-white hair,
red cheeks and twinkling eyes. He cured his patients and irritated his
relations by his good temper. Mrs. Rossiter, Peter thought, had a great
resemblance to Bobby's mother, Mrs. Galleon, senior. They were, both of
them, massive and phlegmatic. They had both acquired that solemn dignity
that comes of living up to one's husband's reputation. They both looked
on their families--Mrs. Rossiter on Clare and Mrs. Galleon on Millicent,
Percival and Bobby--with curiosity, tolerance and a mild soft of wonder.
They were both massively happy and completely unimaginative. They were,
indeed, old friends, having been at school together, they were Emma and
Jane to one another and Mrs. Rossiter could never forget that Mrs. Galleon
came to school two years after herself and was therefore junior still;
whilst Mrs. Galleon had stayed two years longer than Mrs. Rossiter, and was
a power there when Mrs. Rossiter was completely forgotten; they were fond
of each other as long as they were allowed to patronise one another.
Peter had spent a delicious evening. He had had half an hour in the garden
with Clare. They had spoken in an undertone.
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