And there's pictures and fine old furniture and things that's been there for ages, and there's a big park round it and gardens and trees with branches trailing to the ground--some of them." She paused and took another breath.

"But there's nothing else," she ended suddenly.
Mary had begun to listen in spite of herself.

It all sounded so unlike India, and anything new rather attracted her.

But she did not intend to look as if she were interested.

That was one of her unhappy, disagreeable ways.