On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Published bbaafcof

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nts to use in the kitchen.
The rooms were cool and stale although it was hot outside. I stepped through the living roomover
the old Turkish carpetwhich looked malnourishedits bare white threads exposed like ribs. Doc Homer
could afford betterI heard somebody say in my minda voice I couldn’t identify. “All the money he’s got
up there.” Which of course wasn’t truewe never had muchthat was just what people thought because we
were standoffish. Beyond the living room was the parlor where he used to see patients who’d come to the
houseembarrassedit seems to me nowat night when the office was closed. At present the parlor was
shockingly cramped. The door to the outside porch was blocked by furniture I didn’t remember: two sofas
and something that looked like a cobbler’s bench. Folded on a sofa was one thing I remembered wella
black crocheted afghan with red flowers. Hallie and I used to drag that thing around everywhereour totem
against disaster. It looked cleaner now than I’d ever seen it.
Magazines and journals were everywhere. His American Journal of Genetics was still organized
chronologically on the shelf. That was his pet interest; they’d once published his article on the greatly
inbred gene pool of Gracew [link widoczny dla zalogowanych]yilai:
[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

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