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The doctor frowned. “The one who used to live at Lyndmore. That is what I must do. But it's French manners, I suppose. Then she went below. They send you every good wish. "'Odd's-my-life! what's this?" exclaimed the carpenter, looking at the superscription of one of them. ” Anna’s eyes were a little dim as she poured out her coffee, and the laugh she attempted was not altogether a success. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard.
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