“Oh, this is a very old house—a Place they call it—where papa and I have been staying for some time. Poor papa is obliged to be in hiding.”
“And who lives here?”
“Well, Hilary, perhaps I ought not to say,” she said sadly.
“Tell me, then, how far are we from the sea?”
“About eight miles.”
“Only eight miles? Well, how did I come here?”
“I don’t know. I want to know.”
“Am I a prisoner?”
“It seems like it.”
“But where’s everybody? I haven’t heard a soul about till you came.”