E-text prepared by David Clarke, Mary Meehan,
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
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CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIV
CHAPTER XXV
CHAPTER XXVI
CHAPTER XXVII
CHAPTER XXVIII
CHAPTER XXIX
CHAPTER XXX
CHAPTER XXXI
CHAPTER XXXII
Celia climbed up the steps to her room slowly; not because she was verytired, but because her room was nearly at the top of Brown's Buildingsand she had learnt that, at any rate, it was well to begin slowly. Itwas only the milk boy and the paper boy who ran up the stairs, and theygenerally whistled or sang as they ran, heedless of feminine reproofs ormasculine curses. There was no lift at Brown's; its steps were as stonyand as steep as those of which Dante complained; the rail on whichCelia's hand rested occasionally was of iron; and Brown's whitewashedcorridors, devoid of ornament, were so severe as to resemble those of aprison; indeed, more than one of the inhabitants of the Buildings spokeof them, with grim facetiousness, as The Jail. Without having to pauseto gain her breath, for at twenty-two, when you are well and strong,even sixty steep steps do not matter very much, Celia unlocked a door