“When they reached the neighborhood, she paused at the corner and looked down it. There were the ample redbrick houses trimmed in gray stone, the whole street the product of one admired architect. There were the worn cobblestones and the neat pavements punctuated by posts where horses could be tied. There were the scrubbed doorsteps, carefully maintained by dozens of housemaids. There were even, unbelievably, the roses in the window box at number sixteen, old Mrs. Grainger’s house. It was astoni...shingly unchanged. “Is this where we are going, mistress?” inquired Ferik. She nodded, momentarily unable to speak. “Who lives here?” he wanted to know. “I used to.” It came out in a whisper. Ferik bent toward her. “I didn’t hear, mistress.” Emma took a breath and stood straighter, recovering herself. “This is where I lived when I was a child, Ferik.MoreLessRead More Read Less
User Reviews: