After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph. "I've often heard of a secret door in this room, though I never saw it. Suffer me to precede you. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. She felt her skills make a belated return. The house was invisible from the road, and yet enormous once within view. I wonder if some of them did—and it didn’t get reported.
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