He noted the dusky square of green, and the finger-post signalling the centre of the four roads.
Andrew Hedger repeated that it was The Crossways house, ne'er a doubt.
Redworth paid him his expected fee, whereupon Andrew, shouldering off, wished him a hearty good night, and forthwith departed at high pedestrian pace, manifestly to have a concluding look at the beloved anatomy.
There stood the house.

Absolutely empty! thought Redworth.

The sound of the gate-bell he rang was like an echo to him.

The gate was unlocked.
He felt a return of his queer churchyard sensation when walking up the garden-path, in the shadow of the house.

Here she was born: here her father died: and this was the station of her dreams, as a girl at school near London and in Paris.