And Lillie, who was so gentle and lacking in self-assertion, gave way to
us.
Recall, too, her passion for flowers. She felt a physical pang to see
cut flowers with their stalks out of water. Once I saw her buy up the
whole stock-in-trade of a flower-girl, because the poor things wanted
water. Neither you nor your children have any love of flowers. You, as a
doctor, are inclined to think it unhealthy to have plants in your rooms;
consequently there were none, and Lillie never grumbled about it.
Lillie did not care for modern music. Cesar Franck bored her, and Wagner
gave her a headache. Her favourite instrument was an old harpsichord, on
which she played Mozart, while her daughters thundered out Liszt and
Rubinstein upon a concert grand, and you, dear Professor, when in a good
humour, strode about the house whistling horribly out of tune.
Finally, Lillie liked quiet, musical speech, and she was surrounded by
people who talked at the top of their voices.
"Absurd trifles," I can hear you saying.
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