Xander stared at the gate. It was made of wrought iron, and the shiny black metal rods twisted into curlicues and rosettes were obviously not just for beauty. They were arranged in such a way that nobody could slide through them, even someone short for his age (as Xander was) and thin (as they both were). Xena and Xander had come up a drive from the street, and after two turns, the gate in the high stone wall and the house behind it had become visible. If the gate and wall were impressive, the enormous house behind them was mind-boggling. It was painted white and had pale brown shutters at all the windows. Eight columns were lined up on the porch that must lead to the front door. The curving drive opened out in a wide sweep in front of the mansion. Xander imagined cantering up on a noble steed and leaping down onto the gravel, with bowing servants coming out to take his horse and to lead him inside to a grand room where he would be served lemonade and muffins. “I didn’t know there was anything like this in the city,”
