Dolores thought the room gloomy, and almost funereal.

The bed looked like a catafalque, the candles like funeral torches, and the whole place breathed the magnificent discomfort of royalty, and seemed hardly intended for a human habitation.
Dolores barely glanced at it all, as her companion locked the first door and led her on to the next room.

He knew that he had not many minutes to spare, and was anxious that she should be in her hiding-place before his servants came back.

She followed him and went in.

Unlike the bedchamber, the small study was scantily and severely furnished.