“What is that funny creaking—do you hear?” “It is the shutter on the stairs, my dear.” “If you’re not sleeping, let’s turn on the light. I hate that wind! Let’s play some chess.” “All right.” “I’m sure it’s not the shutter. There—again.” “It is a tendril fingering the pane.” “What glided down the roof and made that thud?” 660 “It is old winter tumbling in the mud.” “And now what shall I do? My knight is pinned.”
