‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. ‘I assure you it was mutual. It resembled Mardi Gras, and she thought disdainfully of New Orleans. As soon, however, as the last solemn rites were over, and the remains of the unfortunate woman committed to their final resting-place in Willesden churchyard, his firmness completely deserted him, and he sank beneath the weight of his affliction. Your aunt liked the pheasant. Her father was an astute businessman and a hard worker, but also handsome in the face which had aided partly his ascension to the Guild. Every house-top, every window, every wall, every projection, had its occupants.
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