Daily Pym

‘Now if only he were a widower,’ mused Harriet.

‘But he isn’t,’ said Belinda stoutly.

‘No, and Agatha’s very tough in spite of her rheumatism,’ lamented Harriet.

— Some Tame Gazelle, chapter fourteen

I might be incapable of loving my fellow human beings in a general way, but I could inspire love in others. This picture of myself was not at all unpleasing to me. I began imagining future luncheons in town, the great joints of meat being wheeled up to the table in an unending procession, the chefs standing deferentially with carving implements poised…

— A Glass of Blessings, chapter nineteen

I sometimes liked to imagine myself in a small cosy office where a little group of women might gather in a room, drinking tea and eating biscuits, discussing the iniquities of the Boss. I could picture the boss himself coming bursting into the room, perhaps with an ill-typed letter in his hand, and the cool stares of the women as they stood with their teacups in their hands, letting him have his say, putting him out of countenance with their insolent detachment, so that his wrath smouldered out like a damp squib and he was left floundering and stammering.

— A Glass of Blessings, chapter two