TweetaBook

Nicole

• 21 October 2009 on 7:59 PM | 0
  

  (2 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
  

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  Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.

  
  Novel of mystery and passion, a dark psychological tale of secrets and betrayal, dead loves and an estate called Manderley that is as much a presence as the humans who inhabit it: “when the leaves rustle, they sound very much like the stealthy movement of a woman in evening dress, and when they shiver suddenly and fall, and scatter away along the ground, they might be the pitter, patter of a woman’s hurrying footsteps, and the mark in the gravel the imprint of a high-heeled satin shoe.”

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