She gazed languidly for a moment, and then she sat up suddenly, and her face changed. She stared wildly at the house, and put out her hands as if to ward it off.
The car sped up to the arched doorway, with its coat of arms cut in grey stone, and Ted leaped out and rushed up the low steps to the bell.
“Not here! Not here!” gasped Essie, clinging to the car. “I can’t live here.” She was trembling violently.
“Dear Essie,” I said amazed, “we can’t remain in the car. Pull yourself together, and even if you don’t like the place don’t hurt Ted’s feelings by showing it.”
She looked at me like one dazed, and inured to obedience got out, and we followed Ted into the house. We found ourselves in a large square hall. She groaned and leaned against the wall.
“I can’t bear it,” she whispered to me. “It’s no use, I can’t bear it.”
“A glass of water, quick,” I said to Ted, who turned beaming to us expecting a chorus of admiration. “Essie is overtired.”
“What is the matter?” I said to her as he hurried away. “What’s wrong with this exquisite place?”
“It’s the house I come to at night,” she said brokenly. “The dream house. I knew it directly I saw it. Look! There’s the minstrels’ gallery.”
I could only stare at her amazed.