When I had looked back before entering he and his horse had been the only living things in the black street.
But I would not run away.

It would be a pretty thing to go home to my grandmother and tell her that I was afraid of the house because I could not make Bridget Kelly hear me and had run away in the full sunshine of a June day.
Probably Bridget was upstairs in some one of the forty-six rooms.
From the hall itself four doors of very fine wine-red mahogany opened.

I looked into one after the other.

They were reception-rooms of great size, so far as I could judge; but the sun was the other side of the house, and only an eastern light came in through the chinks of the window shutters.

The rooms were full of sheeted shapes in the dimness.