She is solitary, and that will save her.

The house, like the girl, is feverish.

It's all happening again, just as she dreamed. One girl outwits her enemies and flees; another arrives before dawn, seeking her family.

The neighbours are too flea-hearted.

In the sickroom, the girl is betrayed, and then she is evicted from the house, at last.

It's all happening for the first time, just as she dreamed. One girl runs from the house; another arrives in a snowstorm, seeking peace and quiet.

She is like all the girls before her.

The house never faces the sun.

The butler is her downfall.

The house, like the girl, shoulders into the wind.

In the upper gallery, the girl takes what she needs. But briars croon in the lit fireplace.

She is inelegant.

The house was in ages past a dovecote, and traces remain.

Shadows in the curtains persecute the secretary.

The neighbours are contrary.

In the kitchen the traveller is unaccompanied, but is not alone. But in the anteroom the girl unravels her memories and — her hair flying — outwits the house and leaves.

Brambles croon on the ceiling of the room from which she has been barred.

In the drawing room the lord of the manor is swearing vengeance. But in the drawing room the girl is driven beyond what she can bear and — just in time — outwits her enemies and departs.

Desire.

In the kitchen, there is a strong perfume of strong spirits.

The neighbours will have been livid.

Faithful reader, even as you brush aside these gloomy words, you discover in an antique shop a note summoning you to a faded chateau, far away.

Wavering letters. Smugglers. A figure standing very still. And a girl arriving, finally.

She is running from the house in offence, away from a lonely death, with a bleeding heart.

If reports are accurate, she is not undefended. By design, the priest is the girl's family, or the closest thing she has to it.

They prophesy the fact that she is herself a secret. But they will not guess that, before she escapes the house, she will crawl the length of these halls, carrying a branching candelabra.

The house is surrounded on all sides by warnings.

There is a tradition of a foyer within which is a storehouse of fungus.

Reader, the girl did not escape.

It's all happening as it ever has, as justice, unmeted, demands. One girl departs the house; another arrives when veils of rain draw across the landscape, seeking shelter.