“Dorabel was now as pleased as a half-crown. Everyone knew her. With her scarlet cap and bright yellow dress she had, and her great height, she walked about like a petrol pump in a land where houses and garments alike seemed to grow out of the colouring of the place; and she had notions about that house of hers that made a filling station seem demure. She thought the other houses about as elegant as turnip-tops, and was proud of the stir she made with hers.”