Picking her way softly along the hall to the main stairs for a better place to listen, it occurs to her that the layout of the house is intended to create obstacles and obscurities. Every line of sight is occupied by an object that invites contemplation. Even now, positing a dangerous intruder, Neith finds the allure of the place distracting. The picture on the wall is positioned just so; the warmth of the oil paint gleams and invites the eye. Looking away, one finds a clutch of glossy coffee table books depicting the same tints and shadows—explanations and histories of the work. One might chase one’s tail in here for weeks, and come out wiser, and that is the intent. Neith finds it increasingly hard to believe that the woman who created this space would be revealed if she wanted to be invisible.