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Her
bewilderment
was
complete
:
the
more
she
wished
to
appear
to
understand
him
the
more
unintelligible
his
remarks
became
.
He
reminded
her
of
the
gentleman
who
had
“
explained
”
the
pictures
at
Nettleton
,
and
the
weight
of
her
ignorance
settled
down
on
her
again
like
a
pall
.
“
I
mean
,
I
can
’
t
see
that
you
have
any
books
on
the
old
houses
about
here
.
I
suppose
,
for
that
matter
,
this
part
of
the
country
hasn
’
t
been
much
explored
.
They
all
go
on
doing
Plymouth
and
Salem
.
So
stupid
.
My
cousin
’
s
house
,
now
,
is
remarkable
.
This
place
must
have
had
a
past
—
it
must
have
been
more
of
a
place
once
.
”
He
stopped
short
,
with
the
blush
of
a
shy
man
who
overhears
himself
,
and
fears
he
has
been
voluble
.
“
I
’
m
an
architect
,
you
see
,
and
I
’
m
hunting
up
old
houses
in
these
parts
.
”
She
stared
.
“
Old
houses
?
Everything
’
s
old
in
North
Dormer
,
isn
’
t
it
?
The
folks
are
,
anyhow
.
”
He
laughed
,
and
wandered
away
again
.
“
Haven
’
t
you
any
kind
of
a
history
of
the
place
?
I
think
there
was
one
written
about
1840
:
a
book
or
pamphlet
about
its
first
settlement
,
”
he
presently
said
from
the
farther
end
of
the
room
.
She
pressed
her
crochet
hook
against
her
lip
and
pondered
.
There
was
such
a
work
,
she
knew
:
“
North
Dormer
and
the
Early
Townships
of
Eagle
County
.
”
She
had
a
special
grudge
against
it
because
it
was
a
limp
weakly
book
that
was
always
either
falling
off
the
shelf
or
slipping
back
and
disappearing
if
one
squeezed
it
in
between
sustaining
volumes
.
She
remembered
,
the
last
time
she
had
picked
it
up
,
wondering
how
anyone
could
have
taken
the
trouble
to
write
a
book
about
North
Dormer
and
its
neighbours
:
Dormer
,
Hamblin
,
Creston
and
Creston
River
She
knew
them
all
,
mere
lost
clusters
of
houses
in
the
folds
of
the
desolate
ridges
:
Dormer
,
where
North
Dormer
went
for
its
apples
;
Creston
River
,
where
there
used
to
be
a
paper
-
mill
,
and
its
grey
walls
stood
decaying
by
the
stream
;
and
Hamblin
,
where
the
first
snow
always
fell
.
Such
were
their
titles
to
fame
.
She
got
up
and
began
to
move
about
vaguely
before
the
shelves
.
But
she
had
no
idea
where
she
had
last
put
the
book
,
and
something
told
her
that
it
was
going
to
play
her
its
usual
trick
and
remain
invisible
.
It
was
not
one
of
her
lucky
days
.
“
I
guess
it
’
s
somewhere
,
”
she
said
,
to
prove
her
zeal
;
but
she
spoke
without
conviction
,
and
felt
that
her
words
conveyed
none
.
