The waking up
on the couch, the sight of the end of the other couch behind the
screen, and the tall woman's feet upon it, the voices from unseen
persons in the room, and above all the strange magic of him who
seemed to be the directing genie of the story--all would have seemed
to me unreal had it not been for the prosaic figure of Mrs. Titwing.
About her there could not possibly be any mystery; she was what Miss
Dalrymple would have called "the very embodiment of British
commonplace," and when, after a minute or two, she returned with Mr.
D'Arcy, I went and kissed her again from sheer delight of feeling
the touch of her real, solid; commonplace cheek, and to breathe the
commonplace smell of scented soap. Her bearing, however, towards me
had become entirely changed since she had gone out of the room. She
did not return the kiss, but said, "Shall I show you the way, miss?"
and led the way out.
'She took me through the same dark passage by which I had entered,
and then I found myself in a large bedroom with low panelled walls,
in the middle of which was a vast antique bedstead made of black
carved oak, and every bit of furniture in the room seemed as old as
the bedstead.
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