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Updated: June 7, 2025
Was it in the eyes that shone from a face so radiant that it might have been the face of a girl? She could not have said. Only after that one brief glimpse she looked no more. Descending, she found Nap waiting for her in the oak-beamed coffee-room. He made her sit facing the open window, looking forth upon hill and forest and shallow winding river.
Sunset, and the swift winter twilight, had tinted, then dimmed, the light in the room. On the oak-beamed ceiling, across the ivory rosettes, a single bar of red sunlight lay, broken by rafter and plaster foliation. She watched it turn to rose, to ashes. And, closing her eyes, she lay very still and motionless in the gray shadows closing over all.
It came when they were "ushered into the dining-hall," as our paper so grandly put it, and saw in the great oak-beamed room a table laid on the polished bare wood a table laid for forty-eight guests, with a doily for every plate, and every glass, and every salt-cellar, and here the mosque fell on the heads of the howling dervishes forty-eight soup-spoons, forty-eight silver-handled knives and forks; forty-eight butter-spreaders, forty-eight spoons, forty-eight salad forks, forty-eight ice-cream spoons, forty-eight coffee spoons.
The beautiful arching Gothic windows, the soft music from the pipe organ, the dignity of the high, oak-beamed ceiling, all this to Judith's beauty-loving mind was curiously satisfying. The service was short but reverent; a hymn, the reading of the lesson, the prayers for the day, and then the Head Mistress was reading out the promotion of old girls and the placing of new girls.
She reached the house, flushed and a little breathless, and, tossing aside her hat as she sped through the big, oak-beamed hall, hurried into a pleasant, sunshiny room, where a couple of menservants were moving quietly about, putting the finishing touches to the breakfast table.
The hall, oak-beamed and still lighted mainly by tall, narrow windows, originally slotted for arrow and blunderbuss, was discouraging for men in search of the support of a modern justice of the peace. The chief of a clan, some of whose members had been cattle-lifting, might have received them so. "What men? What laws?" demanded Adam Ferris.
He smiled and blew out the match, just in time. "But as you perceive I am afraid of pain that is, when I think about it." She scarcely seemed to hear. "And have you ever seen anyone die?" "Plenty," said Nick. "Ah, I forgot! You've killed men, haven't you?" There was suppressed excitement in her voice. Nick threw up his head and smoked towards the oak-beamed roof.
I believe I see some of my favourite orangeade." Sir Timothy made his way into the house and into the low, oak-beamed study with its dark furniture and latticed windows. The telephone bell began to ring again as he entered. He took up the receiver. "Sir Timothy?" a rather hoarse, strained voice asked. "I am speaking," Sir Timothy replied. "Who is it?"
They lunched in the old oak-beamed dining-room a meal presided over by Max, who played the host with a half-mocking air, while Chris, still eager upon the renovations, poured out plans, practicable and otherwise, for her fiancé's consideration. "What a pity we have to get back!" she said regretfully when the time for departure drew near. "I want to begin right away, Trevor.
Much of the window glass had remained intact through centuries; the walls were twelve feet thick; the oak-beamed ceilings magnificent, and the secret stairways and rooms in the thickness of the walls, bewildering; but when our conductor began leading us into the bedrooms in daily use by the ladies of the castle, my gorge rose. "This is awful," I said. "I can't go on.
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