Presently he found himself before the Gordon house . It was an old building with sharp eaves and dormer windows , its shingles stained a dark gray by long exposure to wind and weather . Faded green shutters hung on the windows of the lower story . Behind it grew a thick wood of spruces . The little yard in front of it was grassy and prim and flowerless ; but over the low front door a luxuriant early-flowering rose vine clambered , in a riot of blood-red blossom which contrasted strangely with the general bareness of its surroundings . It seemed to fling itself over the grim old house as if intent on bombarding it with an alien life and joyousness . Eric knocked at the door , wondering if it might be possible that Kilmeny should come to it . But a moment later it was opened by an elderly woman -- a woman of rigid lines from the hem of her lank , dark print dress to the crown of her head , covered with black hair which , despite its few gray threads , was still thick and luxuriant . She had a long , pale face somewhat worn and wrinkled , but possessing a certain harsh comeliness of feature which neither age nor wrinkles had quite destroyed ; and her deep-set , light gray eyes were not devoid of suggested kindliness , although they now surveyed Eric with an unconcealed hostility . Her figure , in its merciless dress , was very angular ; yet there was about her a dignity of carriage and manner which Eric liked . In any case , he preferred her unsmiling dourness to vulgar garrulity . He lifted his hat . `` Have I the honour of speaking to Miss Gordon ? '' he asked . `` I am Janet Gordon , '' said the woman stiffly . `` Then I wish to talk with you and your brother . '' `` Come in . '' She stepped aside and motioned him to a low brown door opening on the right . `` Go in and sit down . I 'll call Thomas , '' she said coldly , as she walked out through the hall .
XXXXX walked into the parlour and sat down as bidden .
Eric Kilmeny Thomas comeliness dormer dourness garrulity joyousness lank spruces