试听180秒15上 | 最惨不过夕阳红，悲凉又心痛

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父亲的小屋透着悲凉bareness，狭小的天空，暗灰的光线和父亲那布满沟壑却依然令人生畏的脸。Craggy but awesome 

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"Ah," I said, and gave a short laugh, "I might have known Father would be up and ready for the day." 
"I've been up for the past three hours," he said, looking me up and down
rather coldly.

"Then relate it briefly and concisely. I haven't all morning to listen to you chatter."
"Come to the point then and be done with it.

My father's face, in the half-light, betrayed no emotion whatsoever.

"I have waited at table every day for the last fifty-four years," my father remarked, his voice perfectly unhurried.
I felt disinclined actually to hand to him the piece of paper I was holding, and so put it down on the end of his bed. My father glanced at it then returned his gaze to me. There was still no trace of emotion discernible in his expression, and his hands on the back of the chair appeared perfectly relaxed. Hunched over or not, it was impossible not to be reminded of the sheer impact of his physical presence - the very same that had once reduced two drunken gentlemen to sobriety in the back of a car. Eventually, he said:"I only fell that time because of those steps.”

No doubt, she was feeling a certain sense of guilt as the two of us watched from our window my father's figure down below. 

The shadows of the poplar trees had fallen across much of the lawn, but the sun was still lighting up the far corner where the grass sloped up to the Summerhouse. My father could be seen standing by those four stone steps, deep in thought. A breeze was slightly disturbing his hair. 

Then, as we watched, he walked very slowly up the steps. At the top, he turned and came back down, a little faster. Turning once more, my father became still again for several seconds, contemplating the steps before him. Eventually, he climbed them a second time, very deliberately. This time he continued on across the grass until he had almost reached the summerhouse, then turned and came walking slowly back, his eyes never leaving the ground.

In fact, I can describe his manner at that moment no better than the way Miss Kenton puts it in her letter; it was indeed 'as though he hoped to find some precious jewel he had dropped there.'

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