"And this clock I am going to have in the drawing-room, and these
Salviati glasses. Then, when I have moved out the piano, I shall
put the sofa in its place, and my own little table, with my pretty
Florentine ornaments."
Raymond again looked annoyed. "Have you spoken to my mother?" he
said.
"No; she never goes there."
"Not now, but if ever she can bear any move it will be her first
change, and I should not like to interfere with her arrangements."
"She could never have been a musician, to let the piano stand
against the wall. I shall never be able to play."
"Perhaps that might be contrived," said Raymond, kindly. "_Here_
you know is your own domain, where you can do as you please."
"Yes; but I am expected to play in the evening. Look at all those
things. I had kept the choicest for the drawing-room, and it is
such a pity to hide them all up here."
Raymond felt for the mortification, and was unwilling to cross her
again, so he said, "I will ask whether my mother would object to
having the piano moved."
"This morning?"
"After eleven o'clock--I never disturb her sooner; but you shall
hear before I go to Backsworth.
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