The last amusement they had, was to be taken by somebody to Tussaud's, and now they can talk of nothing but "the hunted murderer"-- one sees it on the walls, you know; and they play at being murderer and policeman, one trying to escape the other.

Pretty play for children of five and seven, isn't it ?' Rolfe made a gesture of disgust.
'I know the poor things can't help it,' pursued Mrs.Abbott, with softer feeling, 'but it turns me against them.

From seeing so little of their father, they have even come to talk with a vulgar pronunciation, like children out of the streets almost.

It's dreadful! When I think of my cousin--such a sweet, good girl, and _these_ her children--oh, it's horrible!' 'They are very young,' said Harvey, in a low voice, perturbed in spite of himself.

'With good training----' 'Yes, of course we must put them in good hands somewhere.' Plainly it had never occurred to Mrs.Abbott that such a task as this might, even temporarily, be undertaken by herself; her one desire was to get rid of the luckless brats, that their vulgarity might not pain her, and the care of them encumber her polite leisure.
After again excusing himself for this call, and hearing his apology this time more graciously received, Harvey withdrew from the cosy study, and left Mrs.Abbott to her _Heredite Psychologique_.