It was approached from the street by a flight of broad stone steps, leading to a ponderous door, plated with iron, and secured on the inner side by huge bolts, and a lock, with wards of a prodigious size. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. She wished her father and aunt would not enjoy their dinner with such quiet determination. That will be a fine day—it will have to be, when first you set eyes on Italy. He dared not go on. ’ ‘But what do you want it for, miss?’ ‘But to protect myself.
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