Out and down the passage, past all their rooms--his the last--to the dark stairs, eerie at night, where the scent of age oozed out of the old house.

All doors below, above, were closed; it was like looking down into a well, to sit with her head leaning against the banisters.

And silent, so silent--just those faint creakings that come from nowhere, as it might be the breathing of the house.

She put her arms round a cold banister and hugged it hard.

It hurt her, and she embraced it the harder.