“Are you looking for Mr. Redfern’s bones?” enquired Mrs. Solent in her most airy manner. “You look like that pretty girl in the poem, leaning over her Pot of Basil; doesn’t she, Wolf?” And touching the mound with the tip of her green parasol she put her head a little to one side and began quoting from the poem in question in a mock-sentimental intonation⁠ ⁠…