What else?
Her artist fingers hovered.
Mere bridesmaid’s rubbish; such frightful frippery.
She turned her thoughts to the room.
Over the bed, an antique Bush-knife of barbaric shape supposed to have been Abraham’s, was quite a collector’s piece.
It might be offered to some museum perhaps. The Nation ought to have it....
She sighed shortly.
And downstairs in the butler’s room there were possessions of hers, besides. What of those Apostle spoons, and the two-pronged forks, and the chased tureen?
Leonard frequently had said it took the best part of a day to polish her plate alone.
And to go away and leave it all!