In The Country Of The Story The

I Suppose, I Hoped, By Setting A Particularly Brutal Ancient Rite In The Present And In My Own Village To Shock The Story's Readers With A Graphic Dramatization Of The Pointless Violence And General Inhumanity In Their Own Lives.

A Pretty Sight, A Lady With A Book.

Oh Constance, We Are So Happy.

Within, Walls Continued Upright, Bricks Met Neatly, Floors Were Firm, And Doors Were Sensibly Shut; Silence Lay Steadily Against The Wood And Stone Of Hill House, And Whatever Walked There, Walked Alone.

He Is Altogether Selfish, She Thought In Some Surprise, The Only Man I Have Ever Sat And Talked To Alone, And I Am Impatient; He Is Simply Not Very Interesting.