"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. ” John replied. “No, you weren’t bad in the slightest. “You met no one upon the stairs, or saw no one leave the flats?” “No one,” Anna answered firmly. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. Anna thrust hers into her pocket unopened, and for the first time left the house without a smile upon her face. ” She replied with a rehearsed answer, “I was told that my real mother died the day I was born. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers.
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