Sir James Thornhill's preparations being completed, Mr. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. She still could not muster the strength to leave. Mike sat down, his body too large for the petite blue couch. He waited for an instant, wasting an encouraging smile in the imperfect light, and then shut the doors of the van, leaving the women in darkness. Impressed with this idea, he paused for a moment to listen.
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