I’m making a mess of my life— unless you come in and take it. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. 155 The ringing doorbell jarred her from her stupor. . It was approached from the street by a flight of broad stone steps, leading to a ponderous door, plated with iron, and secured on the inner side by huge bolts, and a lock, with wards of a prodigious size. As much as it killed her, she kept her mouth shut. " Sir Rowland's brow darkened. Wood was once a favourite of yours.
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