in a hall that he had never seen before, with a dry fountain at its centre and a drift of yellow leaves across the floor. Rose leaves, he thought, stooping to look at them, and when he straightened he saw the vines, twisting and scrambling their way through windows and along the wall. There was a stair at the end of the hall, curving upwards, with a cable of rose vine curling along the balustrade . . .
from Chapter 10 — The Dream