{"product_id":"2940013740976","title":"Doomsday","description":"Someone had asked Mary Viner as a child why she so disliked going\u003cbr\u003eto school, and had received the pregnant reply:  \"'Cos one does the\u003cbr\u003esame thing every day\"; and at the age of three-and-twenty Mary was\u003cbr\u003estill resenting repetition.  Only more so, because life had become\u003cbr\u003emore busily full of it, a circus of dreary tidyings and\u003cbr\u003ecleanlinesses, of washings up and washings down, of moments that\u003cbr\u003esmelt of yellow soap, and tea leaves and paraffin.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMoreover, it could not be helped.  And the turning of the domestic\u003cbr\u003ewheel demanded the obedient hands of the dutiful daughter.  Mary's\u003cbr\u003ealarum clock set the welkin ringing at half-past six.  It was\u003cbr\u003ewinter, January and cold.  She had cause to know how cold it could\u003cbr\u003ebe in that cardboard box of a bedroom with its walls of tile and\u003cbr\u003eplywood sheeting.  The very clock seemed to make a bouncing sound\u003cbr\u003elike a pea rattling in a box.  The room remained quite dark, and\u003cbr\u003ethe day's duties offered her no compensations for the loss of her\u003cbr\u003ewarm bed, so she lingered there, guiltily snug, the clothes pulled\u003cbr\u003eup to her chin, her pretty, slim legs tucked up.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThank heaven she had not to struggle with half a yard of black\u003cbr\u003ehair.  A bobbed head had its advantages when your hands got colder\u003cbr\u003eand colder.  The house was very still, but across the landing there\u003cbr\u003etravelled a faint sound of harsh, asthmatic breathing.  Captain\u003cbr\u003eHesketh Viner was still asleep, but soon she would hear the little\u003cbr\u003etwittering voice of her mother, like the voice of a rather futile\u003cbr\u003eand busy bird.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eO, this house--this \"Green Shutters,\" where everything was heard,\u003cbr\u003efrom the stirring of the kitchen fire to the brisk functioning of a\u003cbr\u003etoothbrush!  And her father's cough!  She flung out of bed suddenly\u003cbr\u003ewith a rush of fastidious despair that fought with an inarticulate\u003cbr\u003ecompassion.  What a life for the three of them, cooped up in this\u003cbr\u003ejim-crack cottage in a little world of other jim-crack cottages!\u003cbr\u003eNo wonder that Carslake, solid Georgian Carslake, referred to the\u003cbr\u003eSandihurst Estate as \"Cinder Town.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe lit her candle and scuffled into her clothes, intent upon\u003cbr\u003emaking that morning dash downstairs to light the fires in the\u003cbr\u003ekitchen and living-room.  Yes, damn Colonel Sykes for exploiting\u003cbr\u003ethis patch of clay and sand in Sussex, and for persuading the new\u003cbr\u003epoor to put up cottages and bungalows.  Cinder Town!  She slithered\u003cbr\u003edown the steep and narrow stairs and into the kitchen, jarring a\u003cbr\u003eslim ankle against the coal-scuttle that was standing where it\u003cbr\u003eshould not have stood.  And that, too, was her fault!  Resenting\u003cbr\u003ethis, she jabbed at the thing with her foot, and by way of retort\u003cbr\u003eit tipped a rattling stream of coal upon the floor.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePutting her candle on the kitchen table, and bending down to\u003cbr\u003erecover the lumps of coal, she signalized her submission to the\u003cbr\u003etyranny of trifles by a sudden rush of tears.  There was anger in\u003cbr\u003eher tears, and self-pity, and the rebellion of her youth against\u003cbr\u003elife's aimless and inevitable repetitions.  But how foolish!  And\u003cbr\u003elike a child she brushed the blurring wetness away with her\u003cbr\u003efingers, forgetting the coal dust upon them.  She put a match to\u003cbr\u003ethe kitchen fire, wondering whether it was going to prove sulky,\u003cbr\u003eand while it was deciding that it would burn she collected the cans\u003cbr\u003efor the morning's hot water.  And how she yearned for gas!  To be\u003cbr\u003eable to slip down and turn a tap, and perhaps slip back to bed\u003cbr\u003eagain.","brand":"WDS Publishing","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47070246043888,"sku":"2940013740976","price":0.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940013740976_p0.jpg?v=1763589624","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013740976","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}