She set the second painting beside the first, then went and placed the third on the table. Her thoughts drifted back to Gore Street. It was a dismal house of reddish-brown brick and, unlike the rest of the houses at that end of the dead-straight street, lacked the rounded arches of a porch and the balcony above, a balcony shaded beneath its own awning and trimmed with a fancy lace-work railing. Instead, an out-of-true iron veranda shaded the front door and just the one double-hung window, misaligned in the façade. The upstairs windows were exposed to the elements. The house faced west and for a time in the afternoon, sunlight would kiln dry the upstairs room, eventually finding its way through the small downstairs window to heat the front room as well, revealing the stained wallpaper where
