Anna Katharine Green,
The Old Stone House and Other Stories
“ I choked down my own emotions and solemnly answered: "Yes, he is building her a home. You must have seen the stones that are being piled up yonder on the verge of the forest."He turned, glared at me, made a peculiar sound with his lips, and then stood silent, opening and closing his hands in a way that made my blood run chill in spite of myself."A house!" he murmured, at last; "I wish I had the building of that house!" [23] The tone, the look he gave, alarmed me still further."You would build it well!" I cried. It was his trade, the building of houses. ”
