Chapter 9

The first time I visited Martin Fraser's home was on a February evening with only an elderly servant because Barbara was not invited. There was a sense of deep, abode peace in the air, and as my host remained in the entrance hall, I entered the house with a vague and disturbed anxiety of indecency. I was embarrassed as I was making my way to the library, so I turned around. However, when I realized that I was wearing my best outfit, I regained my confidence and entered the room with a smile.

In the flickering light of the fire, Lucy Fraser, a pretty little girl dressed as a woman and full of self-possession, stood. I had not expected to meet Lucy Fraser in that low, darkly paneled room with enormous antique furniture that cast deep, curious shadows all around it. She came forward to greet me and extended her hand to guide me to the seat after grabbing my hand with an odd force akin to a clasp and acting soberly in contrast to the typical cowardice or lethargy of children. She