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It seemed still to believe that there was an upper storey, still to feel that this was a house, there seemed a hope in the twists of that battered staircase that men would yet come again and seek sleep at evening by way of those broken steps; the hand-rail and the banisters streamed down from the top, a woman's dress lolled down from the upper room above those aimless steps, the laths of the ceiling gaped, the plaster was gone; of all the hopes men hope that can never be fulfilled, of all desires that ever come too late, most futile was the hope expressed by that stairway's posture that ever a family would come home there again or tread those steps once more.
"I I quite forgot you didn't know. . . . Broken between the knee and the hip," he added, turning to Barrington. "I thought it merely paresis of the muscles until " "Where is he?" put in Kenny sharply. "What room?" "There are only two rooms here," said Doctor Cole. "The stairway's yonder." "Just a minute, Kenny." Frank checked him with a gesture. "I'm going up first with Doctor Cole."
The thing backed away; already it was fading into the darkness beside the stairs. As Val's feet touched the floor of the hall he caught his last glimpse of it, a thin white patch against the solid paneling of the stairway's broad side. Then it was gone.
"I do not understand," he said. "'T ain't understanding! It's believin'. Bless yer, SHE doesn't understand. I say, let's go an' talk to 'er a bit. She don't mind nothin', an' she'll let us in. We can leave Polly an' 'im 'ere. They can make some more tea an' drink it." It ended in their going out of the room together again and stumbling once more down the stairway's crookedness.
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