Laura looked suddenly thoughtful, as if she wanted to tell her cousin some new news. But without saying a word, she jumped up, picked up Briony's comb, and stood in front of the mirror, combing her hair vigorously. She had just begun to comb her hair when they heard Mrs. Tallis calling them down to dinner. Laura's temper flared up immediately, and Briony surmised that her rapid change of mood was part of the reason for her recent upset. It's over. It's over. "I'm far from ready," she said, almost crying again. "I haven't even put on makeup yet." "I'll go down first," Briony comforted her. "I'll tell them you're coming back later." But Laura had gone out of the door, as if she had not heard her. Briony still stood in front of the mirror looking at her face after combing her hair, thinking about how to start making up. She knew that one day soon,Pallet rack upright, she would have to start wearing makeup. This is another thing that takes time. But at least she doesn't have freckles to cover up or fade, which of course saves trouble. Long ago, when she was ten years old, she decided that wearing lipstick made her look like a clown. That idea is bound to be revised. But there is no need to change it now,Industrial pallet rack, because there are so many other things to consider. She stood at the desk and absentmindedly capped her pen. Writing a story is a hopeless and tedious task when powerful and chaotic forces are around her, when the sudden events of the day absorb or change what has happened before. An old lady swallowed a fly. She wondered if it had been a terrible mistake to tell her cousin the secret-Cecilia would never have been pleased if the excitable Laura had told anyone what she knew about Robbie's letter. Besides, how is it possible to go downstairs and share a table with a nymphomaniac? If the police come to arrest him, She and Briony might have to testify and say the word out loud. Reluctantly, she walked out of the room and down the dark, slatted corridor to the top of the stairs. She stopped and listened to what was going on around her. The living room was still buzzing-she heard the voices of her mother and Mr. Marshall, and then the twin brothers talking to each other. No Cecilia or nymphomaniac voices. Briony felt her heart race as she reluctantly began to descend. Her life is no longer simple. Only three days earlier she had been writing the ending of "Arabella's ordeal" and waiting for her cousins to arrive. She had wanted everything to be different, and now she had made it this way; the situation was not only bad And it will go from bad to worse. She stopped again on the first landing to put together a plan; she would be far away from her volatile cousin. Not even to make eye contact with her-she could neither afford to be drawn into a conspiracy nor provoke a cataclysmic eruption. As for Cecilia, whom she was supposed to protect, long span shelving ,heavy duty warehouse rack, she dared not approach her. And Robbie, for security reasons, of course, she has to avoid. Her fussy mother isn't much help. It was impossible for Briony to think clearly in front of her. She should go to the twins-they will be her protectors. She will stay with them and take care of them. The summer dinner always starts so late- it's after ten o'clock-the two boys will be tired. Otherwise she should have been friendly to Mr. Marshall and asked him about the candies — who came up with the idea and how they were made. It was a coward's trick, but she couldn't think of anything else. The dinner was about to begin, and this was not the time to call in Constable Watkins from the village. She continued down the stairs. She should have advised Laura to change her clothes to hide the scratch on her arm. If she were asked about the scratch, she would probably cry again. But then again, even a suggestion probably wouldn't have convinced Laura not to wear a dress that made it very difficult for her to walk. Growing up means being eager to accept all these obstacles. She herself is being challenged by them. It wasn't a scratch on her body, but she felt responsible for it and everything that was about to happen. When her father was at home, there was a fixed axis around which everything revolved. He doesn't organize anything, he doesn't go around the house worrying about other people, and he rarely tells people what to do-in fact, he spends most of his time in the library. But as soon as he is at home, there is order in the house, which brings freedom to people. The burden on everyone's shoulders has been lifted. When he was present, it did not matter that her mother withdrew to her own bedroom; so long as a book was on his lap Stay downstairs, it's enough. When he took his place at the table, kindly, calmly, confidently, a crisis in the kitchen dissolved into a comic skit; It will turn into a thrilling drama. He knows most of what he should know. When he didn't know, he knew exactly which authority to ask for advice and would take her to the library to help him find the answer. If he had not been, as he described it, a servant in the Ministry, if he had not been busily engaged in making contingency plans for eventualities, if he had been at home, sending Hardman to fetch wine from the bodega, leading the conversation,radio shuttle racking, and when it came to the vote, making a decision without consulting others, she would not now be trudging through the corridors. omracking.com