All the appointments of the chamber were as clean and orderly as could be.
The sight of his mother's face all but stilled Richard's anger; she was yellow and wasted; her hair seemed far more grizzled than he remembered it.

She stood as far from him as she could get, in an attitude not devoid of dignity, and looked him straight in the face.

He closed the door.
'Mother, I've not come here to quarrel with you,' Mutimer began, his voice much softened.

'What's done is done, and there's no helping it.

I can understand you being angry at first, but there's no sense in making enemies of us all in this way.