The Craze of Christina — page 9: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE CRAZE OF CHRISTINA. CHAPTER I. ‘‘Wuat would you like done, sir?”’ Clifford looked helplessly about him. ‘‘I—I am sure I haven’t the faintest ‘idea, Docker,’’ he replied feebly, after a short pause that was brimful of misery. All over the great gaunt desolate drawing- room that had not been used for half a century, the dust lay in a thick impalpable mantle, like a veil of soft gray wool. Docker had thrown back the shutters from one of the five tall win- dows that stretched away down one side of the room into a dim vista of seemingly intermina- ble length; and the pale winter daylight crept weirdly in over the worn and faded satin hang- ings, and the broken spindle-legged furniture, and threw ghostlike reflections across the vast misty faces of a long row of mirrors in tar- nished gilt frames, that filled in the whole length of the opposite wall. Between the mirrors and the windows-—mid- 20'72231 COMNIE XC) onal