Tonight, with the room almost completely dark, the chairs and love seats and footstools had lost their outlines and seemed to have become crouching shadows.
More fancies - I am letting myself become obsessed by them, Elizabeth thought, allowing my imagination to run away with me. Still, she was glad to reach her small bedroom and lock the door behind her.
Once in bed, she fell asleep almost immediately, deeply and dreamlessly.
What awakened her she did not know. Sounds became magnified. The creaking of an old board somewhere outside her bedroom door was like a loud groan in the stillness. The muttering of the ocean seemed to rise to a roar. A fog horn far out on the water sang its melancholy song.
And through those other sounds came another, so unlikely that she pulled herself up on her pillow and sat hugging her knees, her ears straining and her eyes staring sightlessly into the darkness.
Surely there could not be a baby crying here in Gray House!
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