In the front parlour, Hannelore Ensley was playing the grand piano. Priscilla sat in the front sofa, while her lady’s maid stood next to her talking about something. Priscilla was not at all indulgent. She said it as she had been forced. As I appeared, she stopped, ‘It appears as if you’ve come from a long way.’ She said without glancing at me, probably spying over me from her tea saucer. ‘N-No, Ma’am; it is just the garden lawn,’ ‘The garden lawn seems to have outgrown from the tiger grass. Plenty of weeds there too, has not Ishmael cleaned