’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. He recognised Anna, and at once addressed her. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. "Are you a poltroon, after all?" "That's it! I ought to have died that night!" "Or is there a taint of insanity in your family history? Alone and practically penniless like yourself! You weren't even stirred by gratitude. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac.
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