"Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. ’ ‘Unfair!’ echoed his junior. “Let us sit down for a moment,” he had said. Even the love of a mother does not sway him. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. “And besides,” said Ann Veronica, sweeping that aspect aside, “what could I do? A boy sails out into a trade or profession. Later, she would sew it on. ’ Miss Froxfield regarded him in some interest. “I wonder,” she murmured to herself, “if this is the beginning.
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