Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema In the Tepidarium painting

Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema In the Tepidarium paintingMarc Chagall I and the Village paintingMarc Chagall Birthday painting
even emptier. She would doze a little, wake and listen to the dry silence, doze, wake again sharply, to the thing that troubled her. She thought of her husband, driving down on one of the most solemn errands of his life, and of his father, lying fatally sick, perhaps dying, perhaps dead at this moment (she crossed herself), and she could not bring herself to feel as deeply about it as she felt that she should, for her husband’s sake. She realized that if the situation were reversed, and it was her own father who was dying, Jay would feel much as she felt now and that she could not blame either him or herself, but that did her no good. For she knew that at the bottom of it the trouble was, simply, that she had never really liked the old man.
She was sure that she didn’t look down on him, as many of Jay’s relatives all but said to her face and as she feared that Jay himself occasionally believed; certainly not; but