The brightly-perfect polish of the table made your eyes ache; the ornaments on it looked as if they had never been touched by mortal hand; the piano was an object for distant admiration, not an instrument to be played on; the carpet made Mr.Troy look nervously at the soles of his shoes; and the sofa (protected by layers of white crochet-work) said as plainly as if in words, "Sit on me if you dare!" Mr.Troy retreated to a bookcase at the further end of the room.
The books fitted the shelves to such absolute perfection that he had some difficulty in taking one of them out.

When he had succeeded, he found himself in possession of a volume of the History of England.

On the fly-leaf he encountered another written warning:--"This book belongs to Miss Pink's Academy for Young Ladies, and is not to be removed from the library." The date, which was added, referred to a period of ten years since.

Miss Pink now stood revealed as a retired schoolmistress, and Mr.Troy began to understand some of the characteristic peculiarities of that lady's establishment which had puzzled him up to the present time.
He had just succeeded in putting the book back again when the door opened once more, and Isabel's aunt entered the room.
If Miss Pink could, by any possible conjuncture of circumstances, have disappeared mysteriously from her house and her friends, the police would have found the greatest difficulty in composing the necessary description of the missing lady.

The acutest observer could have discovered nothing that was noticeable or characteristic in her personal appearance.