When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. "Arundel Stairs," replied Wood, "the nearest point to Wych Street. Or I should have made love to you long ago. “You had no right—” panted Ann Veronica. Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter One In the quiet of an autumn afternoon, the deserted mansion slept. Don’t look so frightened.
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