Isabel cowered before the poor skeleton in the corner, and the centipedes and snakes that filled the bottles on the shelves.

There was not a servant that would enter the room.
But Antonia did not regard books as a part of some vague spiritual power.

She knew the history of the skeleton.

She had seen the death of many of those "little devils" corked up in alcohol.

She knew that at this hour, if her father were at home he was always disengaged, and she opened the door fearlessly, saying, "Father, here is a gentleman who wishes to see you." The doctor had quite refreshed himself, and, in a house-suit of clean, white linen, was lying on a couch reading.