Neville Quotes in The Tower
Triumphantly Caroline lifted her finger from the fine italic type. There was nothing to mar the success of this afternoon. Not only had she taken the car out alone for the first time, driving unerringly on the right-hand side of the road, but what she had achieved was not a simple drive but a cultural excursion. […] how gratifying if she could, at last, have something of her own to contribute to [Neville’s] constantly accumulating hoard of culture.
Though she could not have admitted it even to herself, Caroline had become almost anaesthetized to Italian art. Dutifully she had followed Neville along the gallery, listening politely while in his light well-bred voice he had told her intimate anecdotes of history, and involuntarily she had let her eyes wander around the room, glancing anywhere but at the particular portrait of Neville’s immediate dissertation.
Ah, I’m glad you picked that one out. It’s generally thought to be the best thing in the collection—a Bronzino, of course.
Caroline shivered, ‘I don’t like him,’ she said. ‘Let’s look at Giovanna again,’ and they had moved back to the first portrait, and Neville had said casually, ‘Do you know, she’s rather like you.’
Caroline knew that she wanted to take the fork to the left, to Florence and home and Neville and—said an urgent voice inside her—for safety.
Neville Quotes in The Tower
Triumphantly Caroline lifted her finger from the fine italic type. There was nothing to mar the success of this afternoon. Not only had she taken the car out alone for the first time, driving unerringly on the right-hand side of the road, but what she had achieved was not a simple drive but a cultural excursion. […] how gratifying if she could, at last, have something of her own to contribute to [Neville’s] constantly accumulating hoard of culture.
Though she could not have admitted it even to herself, Caroline had become almost anaesthetized to Italian art. Dutifully she had followed Neville along the gallery, listening politely while in his light well-bred voice he had told her intimate anecdotes of history, and involuntarily she had let her eyes wander around the room, glancing anywhere but at the particular portrait of Neville’s immediate dissertation.
Ah, I’m glad you picked that one out. It’s generally thought to be the best thing in the collection—a Bronzino, of course.
Caroline shivered, ‘I don’t like him,’ she said. ‘Let’s look at Giovanna again,’ and they had moved back to the first portrait, and Neville had said casually, ‘Do you know, she’s rather like you.’
Caroline knew that she wanted to take the fork to the left, to Florence and home and Neville and—said an urgent voice inside her—for safety.
