It was a pretty room and her mother had decorated it charmingly. The furniture might not be of great value, the mirrors and pictures of no consequence, but the room reflected the taste of a Lady of Quality.
There was no mistaking the elegance of the sofa and chairs, even if they were threadbare, the soft blue damask hangings with cushions to match and the mellow colours of the rug in front of the fireplace.
Syringa looked around her quickly.
Everything was neat and dusted and she was glad that only yesterday she had put large vases of syringa on the tables on either side of the fireplace and a big bunch of daffodils in the window.
The whole room was fragrant with the scent of syringa. It came not only from the vases, but the casement windows were open and for the last few days the bush
