"What a queer house! Everything is a kind of secret.

Rooms are locked up and gardens are locked up--and you! Have you been locked up ?" "No.

I stay in this room because I don't want to be moved out of it.
It tires me too much." "Does your father come and see you ?" Mary ventured.
"Sometimes.

Generally when I am asleep.

He doesn't want to see me." "Why ?" Mary could not help asking again.
A sort of angry shadow passed over the boy's face.
"My mother died when I was born and it makes him wretched to look at me.