let there be...
The mansion is light again.
A fading light, true, for evening is coming, but even that is bright compared to the midnight from which the mansion has emerged. The darkness has not vanished entirely, of course-- there is still a narrow pillar of it, focused precisely wherever Mr Jonathan Strange happens to be.
Mrs Jonathan Strange (who, should any have happened to look for her, was nowhere to be found all day long, returning only when the light did) is seated in a chair in a corner of the main room, very white and shaky. But we know, of course, how women tend to be, and it is most likely completely irrelevant.
A fading light, true, for evening is coming, but even that is bright compared to the midnight from which the mansion has emerged. The darkness has not vanished entirely, of course-- there is still a narrow pillar of it, focused precisely wherever Mr Jonathan Strange happens to be.
Mrs Jonathan Strange (who, should any have happened to look for her, was nowhere to be found all day long, returning only when the light did) is seated in a chair in a corner of the main room, very white and shaky. But we know, of course, how women tend to be, and it is most likely completely irrelevant.