There was no ivy, or any sort of creeper on the walls, but, instead, a
sort of grey-green damp hue, broken only by a very few staring windows.
I passed through that dilapidated gate with no temptation at all to sing.
The drive was covered with an infamous species of large pebble, so
uncomfortable to walk on that I chose the grass at the side and I only
stepped on to this apology for gravel when I was quite close to the
house; approaching the front of it, I may say, at an angle. My footsteps
made a noise like a cart and horse, and instantly down went the blind of
the nearest window of the ground floor.
I stopped dead instinctively and looked at this bleak mansion narrowly.
At the angle from which I had approached the front, I could see the blind
go down quite plainly, but it was impossible to get even a glimpse into
the room behind it.
"What the devil!" I murmured.
And then I told myself that I was really getting too suspicious. It
must be a lady's bed-room obviously. The ground floor near the front
door seemed an odd place for such an apartment. Still, one never knows
what a lady's fancy may be. In any case there was nothing to be
achieved by standing there staring, so I resumed my resounding progress
across the pebbles.
I was at the front door and just going to ring, when round the corner of
the house, right ahead of me, appeared a gentleman, and my spirits fell
still further.
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