These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. She turned them down and gently placed the violin back in its red fake fur lined chamber. But she threw a verbal bombshell into the spinsters' camp. There was no one at all in this room, but through the half-open door of one of the small apartments that gave upon it she had a glimpse of two very young girls sitting at a littered table and writing briskly. Hugging them, they crept stealthily around the house, Major Alderley leading, and wasting—so his captain acidly commented—a deal of time checking the windows and doors.
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