“You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance. She’d have thrown this thing if you hadn’t stopped her. He was a small, dark, reserved man, with a large inflexiblelooking convex forehead, and his wife was very pink and high-spirited, with one of those chins that pass insensibly into a full, strong neck. Her stomach growled, and she clutched at it in reaction, haphazardly observing that the gown had been changed to silk. They were filthy after the burial. He opened the door of still another room, in one corner of which was a grand piano. Your reputation for hospitality would remain under a cloud though, for tea was distinctly mentioned. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. And yet, she would be easy prey in her present state of mind to any plausible, attractive scoundrel.
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