Explore "The Tunnel" by Dorothy M. Richardson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Nearly all the roses were half-opened buds; firm and stiff. Larger ones put in here and there gave the effect of mass. Closest contemplation enhanced the beauty of the whole. Each rose was perfect. The radiant mass was lovely throughout. The body of the basket curved firmly away to its slender hidden base; the smooth sweep of the rim and the delicate high arch of the handle held the roses perfectly framed. It was a perfect gift. It had been quite enough to have the opportunity of doing little things for Mrs. Berwick. the surprise of the roses. The surprise of them. Roses, roses, roses... all the morning they had stood, making the morning's work happy; visible all over the room. Everyone in the house had had the beautiful shock of them. And they were still as they had been when they had been gathered in the dew. If they were in water by the end of the afternoon the buds would revive and expand... even after the hours in the Lyceum. If they were thrown now into the waste-paper basket it would not matter. They would go on being perfect -- to the end of life. "And as long; as my heart is beat‑ing; as long; as my eyes; have; tears."