"Ffrench?" said Haworth. "Oh, FFrench is one o' th' nobs here. He's a chap with a fancy for being a gentleman-manufacturer. He's spent his brass on his notions, until he has been obliged to draw in his horns a bit. He's never lived much in Broxton, though he's got a pretty big place here. The Continent's the style for him, but he'll turn up here again some day when he's hard up enow. There's his place now."And as he spoke they drove sharply by a house standing closed among the trees and having an air of desolateness, in spite of the sun-light.