In the bedroom in which he had slept at Fildy Fe Manor there had been a walnut-wood tallboy of the best Jacobean period.

That one piece must certainly have been worth more than all the furniture in this particular room put together.
Poor Enid Crofton! The call to which she had been looking forward so greatly was not turning out a success.

Godfrey Radmore seemed a very different man here, in Beechfield, from what he had seemed in London.
They talked in a desultory way, with none of the pleasant, cosy, intimacy to which she had insensibly accustomed him; and though Timmy remained absolutely quiet and silent after that unfortunate accident with the stool, his presence in some way affected the atmosphere.
All at once Radmore asked:--"And where's Boo-boo?
It's odd I never thought of asking you in London, but somehow one expects to see a dog in the country, even as highly civilised and smart a little dog as Boo-boo!" "I sold her," answered Mrs.Crofton, in a low, pained tone.

"I got L40 for her, and a most awfully good home.

Still," she sighed, "of course I miss my darling little Boo--" and then a sharp tremor ran through her, for there suddenly fell on her ears the sound of a dog, howling.
Now Enid Crofton did not believe that what she heard so clearly were real howls, proceeding from a flesh-and-blood dog.