'This year I will stay in, ' said Ann.
He want into the kitchen, and from there into the scullery.
The pigeon lay in a basket on a soft blanket. He thought at first that it looked better. Its eyes were open at least, round eyes like the centre of flowers. He looked at the little bowl of milk, and imagined that the pigeon had take some.
But really, in his heart, he knew that the pigeon was now very sick. Worse than when he had found it seven days ago, on a ledge outside their bedroom window. Then it had moved its wings a little, trying to fly; now it lay still.
tiffany