McGauran stares at the box hooked up to the wall, frowning at its bells and wires. How can people talk to each other through this apparatus? He still doesn’t completely understand how the telegraph machine works. Everything is moving so fast these days. He’ll have to remember all the details so he can tell his mother later tonight. She won’t believe he was inside such a house.
“The music room.” Bernard stops by an open door. In there, an upright piano, deeply polished and catching the light, waits to be played again. All around the instrument, silk red and green couches woven with gold threads, glitter in the sunlight. So much gilded gold and bronze in this house, it confuses his senses.
A king could live here. Or a prince.
Is that what that young man is?
“Mister O’Dowd.” Further down
