She should have been warned, Angela felt afterwards, by what happened in the train, long before she saw the house. That haggard young man should have had a warning written across his forehead, she thought, instead of a lot of uninformative wrinkles. It was a quiet train, there were only two of them in the compartment, herself and the young man; and Angela, who usually derived much harmless amusement from studying her fellow travellers, had been, unobtrusively she hoped, watching him ever since her store of magazines had given out.
From HOUSE OF THE GLIMMERING LIGHT, Chapter 1, The Haggard Young Man.
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