A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. She took it up in her many-ringed hands and read it judicially. ‘What do you do here?’ demanded the young lady, moving to meet him. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley.
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