‘Must be still downstairs. “Hey sis!” He cried drunkenly. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. Her fingers found the lump she sought and, with a little effort, she dragged out the black-wrapped foil. The doctor and Anna were left alone. She turned them down and gently placed the violin back in its red fake fur lined chamber. She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening.
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