« Imagine, Hastings, » he said, « that house there-the one on the point that we have admired so much, it belongs to Mademoiselle here. »
« Indeed? » I said, though I was unable to recall having expressed any admiration. In fact I had hardly noticed the house.
« It looks rather eerie and imposing standing there by itself far from anything. »
« It’s called End House, » said the girl. « I love it but it’s a tumble-down old place. Going to rack and ruin. »
Peril at End House