It was the distinctive quality of all the wall-papers that nothing
looked well against them, and the cheap reproductions in gilt
frames, the religious prints, the photographs (groups of the Rev.
Paul at Cambridge, at St. Ermand's Theological College, with the
Skeaton Band of Hope) were all equally forlorn and out of place.
It was evident that everything in the house was arranged and
intended to stay for ever where it was, the chairs against the
walls, the ornaments on the mantelpieces, the photograph-frames, the
plush mats, the bright red pots with ferns, the long blue vases, and
yet the impression was not one of discipline and order. Aunt Anne's
house had been untidy, but it had had an odd life and atmosphere of
its own. This house was dead, utterly and completely dead. The
windows of the dining-room looked out on to a lawn and round the
lawn was a stone wall with broken glass to protect it. "As though
there were anything to steal!" thought Maggie. But then you cannot
expect a garden to look its best at the beginning of April. "I'll
wait a little," thought Maggie. "And then I'll make this house
better.
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