What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. “This is much the cheapest place I know of where things are moderately clean, and I should hate rooms all by myself. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. She spoke slowly.
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