"Given a chance, I can make bread and butter. She was practicing with them on that very day, and displaced a rather mediocre boy violinist who claimed “to be better at the viola anyway” as first chair. “I imagine,” Sir John said, “that your sister would acquaint him with it. She heard her husband’s heavy tread descending the stairs, and the wheels of his carriage as he drove off. But once he had steered the lady down the hall and along a passage to a window seat at the end, he abandoned the subject of society. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. His glasses were gone. "Oh!" she gasped.
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