Floyd got a chill.
“What! You were born here! You will never leave your home?”
Martin’s mocking laugh rang out.
“Oh, you’re too sentimental. She’s not going to sell the house; that wouldn’t look well. She’s going to fill it with our ‘family’ antiques, and donate it to the city as an ‘Art Museum.’”
Floyd was struck silent as usual by Martin’s terrible lack of heart.
“What’s that?”
“What?”
“Somebody singing.”
Martin looked troubled.
“Nonsense, there’s nobody up here. Let’s go down.”