7
" many impressions to seize and hold, familiar loved façades, balconies, windows, water lapping the cellar steps of decaying palaces, the little red house where D’Annunzio lived, with its garden—our house, Laura called it, pretending it was theirs—and too soon the ferry would be turning left on the direct route to the Piazzale Roma, so missing the best of the Canal, the Rialto, the further palaces. "
― Daphne du Maurier , Don't Look Now and Other Stories
9
" What a bore! Especially when the day had gone so well. She had no desire to read or listen to records. His taste would be like her father’s, old Peter Cheyneys and John Buchans, he used to read them over and over again. And music of the lighter sort, probably South Pacific. The steward brought in her tea, and this time there were cherry jam and scones, freshly baked, what’s more. She wolfed the lot. Then she pottered around the room, inspecting the shelves. No Peter Cheyney, no John Buchan, endless books on Ireland, which she expected anyway, Yeats forever, Synge, A.E., a volume on the Abbey Theatre. "
― Daphne du Maurier , Don't Look Now and Other Stories
10
" It seemed to Lady Althea, as she stood there above the steps, that all the people pressing forward were staring, not at the Dome of Rock, but at her alone, and were nudging on another, whispering, smiling; for she knew, from her own experience of mocking others, that there is nothing more likely to unite a crowd of strangers in a wave of laughter than the sight of someone who, with dignity shattered, becomes suddenly grotesque. "
― Daphne du Maurier , Don't Look Now and Other Stories
11
" He was not staring at her anymore. He was still. He had gone. The moment of truth had vanished forever, and she would never know. What had happened was Then, was already past, in some other dimension of time, and the present was Now, part of a future he could not share. This present, this future, was all blank to him, like the empty spaces in the photograph album beside the bed, waiting to be filled. Even, she thought, if he had read my mind, which he often did, he would not have cared. "
― Daphne du Maurier , Don't Look Now and Other Stories
12
" Had I known, that last hour sitting there, talking and laughing about trivial things, that there was a clot forming like a time bomb close to his heart, ready to explode, I would surely have behaved differently, held on to him, at least thanked him for all my nineteen years of happiness and love. Not flipped over the photographs in the album, mocking bygone fashions, nor yawned halfway through, so that, sensing boredom, he let the album drop to the floor and murmured, “Don’t bother about me, pet, I’ll have a kip. "
― Daphne du Maurier , Don't Look Now and Other Stories
13
" Dogs that had been his which she had not known. “There’s dear old Punch…” (Punch, he used to tell her, always knew when his ship was due home, and waited at an upstairs window.) Naval officers riding donkeys… playing tennis… running races, all this before the war, and it had made her think, “unconscious of their doom, the little victims play,” because on the next page it became suddenly sad, the ship he had loved blown up, and so many of those laughing young men lost. "
― Daphne du Maurier , Don't Look Now and Other Stories
15
" I am probably a dull man. Emotionally I have had no complications. I was engaged to a pretty girl, a neighbor, when I was twenty-five, but she married somebody else. It hurt at the time, but the wound healed in less than a year. One fault, if fault it is, I have always had, which perhaps accounts for my hitherto monotonous life. This is an aversion to becoming involved with people. Friends I possess, but at a distance. Once involved, trouble occurs, and too often disaster follows. "
― Daphne du Maurier , Don't Look Now and Other Stories
16
" Fine,” I answered. “Now what about a drink?” I followed him up the corridor once more, across the entrance hall, and on through a swing door at the far end. I heard the light clack-clack of ping-pong balls, and braced myself for frivolity. The room we entered was empty. The sportsmen, whoever they were, were playing in the room beyond. Here there were easy chairs, a table or two, an electric fire and a bar in the far corner, behind which my youthful companion installed himself. I noticed, with misgiving, two enormous urns. “Coffee or cocoa?” he asked. “Or do you prefer something cool? I can recommend the orange juice with a splash of soda.” “I’d like a Scotch,” I said. He looked distressed. His expression became that of an anxious host whose guest demands fresh strawberries in midwinter. "
― Daphne du Maurier , Don't Look Now and Other Stories
18
" He leaned over the rail and stared down into the Pool with interest. It was certainly not much of a place, the water dark and rather slimy, the steps slippery-looking too. Grandfather must be right, and it formed part of the city drain. The man who had been lame for thirty-eight years was lucky when Jesus came along and healed him instantly, rather than waiting for someone to lift him into the Pool. Perhaps Jesus realized the water was bad. There they go, he said to himself, as the father, ignoring the child’s terrified screams, slowly descended the steps. Freeing one hand, he dipped it in the Pool and sloshed the water three times over his daughter, wetting her face, her neck, her arms. Then, smiling in triumph at the curious watchers above, he ascended the steps to safety, his wife smiling with him, mopping the child’s face with a towel. The child herself, bewildered, distraught, rolled her frightened eyes over the heads of the crowd. Robin waited to see if the father would put her down, cured. Nothing happened, though. She began screaming again, and the father, making soothing sounds, bore her away from the top of the steps and was lost in the crowd. Robin turned to the Rev. Babcock. “No luck, I’m afraid. There "
― Daphne du Maurier , Don't Look Now and Other Stories
