Chapter Two
The house on Beach Hill was mute. Onerous. Of coursethat could be from its ponderous air filled with everything dreary andforbidding. The mood matched the surroundings. Weighty drapes covered thetowering windows, while massive oakwood and cold granite columns supported itsimmense bulk. Thick carpets in a somber shade of burgundy appeared to grow likespongy turf, dampening the sound of voices, while the sound of whispers seemedto amplify in the immense hush. The rooms were filled with the fumes of thehouses ancient furnace, like the coal had become impregnated in the ceilings,and the damask wallpaper would carry the smell into another century. The grandscale of such ugly architecture inspired awe and quiet. It felt as if the wallswould suck the life from those that waited in t
