The intention of discovering what was at the end of the
picture gallery absorbed the whole of her essentially practical and
active mind. Deciding on the left-hand flight of stairs, she entered
that immensely long, narrow, and--with blinds drawn--rather dark saloon.
She walked carefully, because the floor was very slippery here, and
with a kind of seriousness due partly to the darkness and partly to the
pictures. They were indeed, in this light, rather formidable, those old
Caradocs black, armoured creatures, some of them, who seemed to eye with
a sort of burning, grim, defensive greed the small white figure of their
descendant passing along between them. But little Ann, who knew they
were only pictures, maintained her course steadily, and every now and
then, as she passed one who seemed to her rather uglier than the
others, wrinkled her sudden little nose. At the end, as she had thought;
appeared a door. She opened it, and passed on to a landing. There was
a stone staircase in the corner, and there were two doors. It would
be nice to go up the staircase, but it would also be nice to open the
doors. Going towards the first door, with a little thrill, she turned
the handle. It was one of those rooms, necessary in houses, for which
she had no great liking; and closing this door rather loudly she opened
the other one, finding herself in a chamber not resembling the rooms
downstairs, which were all high and nicely gilded, but more like where
she had lessons, low, and filled with books and leather chairs.
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