She took the lamp from the table, and tiptoed out.

Maria stole across the hall.

The room which had been her father's and mother's was entirely empty, and the roses on the satiny wall-paper gleamed out as if they were real.

There was a white-and-silver picture-moulding.

Maria set her lamp on the floor.
She looked at the great bay-window, she looked at the roses on the walls.