Any day now the Mansion will be blanketed in snow and festooned with icicles, right on schedule; but for the moment, the lawns are still bare, the wind brisk but not bitter, the air bracing. Conveniently, because something seems to be going on ( Read more... )

This latest arrival is a pathetic sight -- a tiny, spindly creature with batlike ears, a bulbous nose, and huge, wistful, bloodshot brown eyes -- presumably female, to judge by the stained and ragged skirt and blouse. She smells faintly of alcohol and strongly of soap, and is slightly unsteady on her feet. Wobbling up the steps, she knocks on the ( Read more... )