Great stone staircases leading no one knew whither, and long gloomy passages, impressed the occasional visitor with the idea that he was traversing a building of vast extent; and, though this was not the case in reality, the deception was so cleverly contrived that it seldom failed of producing the intended effect. Insulting cries became frequent and various, but for the most part she could not understand what was said. The cry was echoed by twenty different voices. Manning told her he loved beauty, and extorted a similar admission from her; he then expatiated upon his own love of beauty. ‘My name’s NOT More, Mr.
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