The stone of which everything was built seemed to be red， but that might only be because of the curious light. Itwas obviously very old. Many of the flat stones that paved the courtyard had cracks across them. None of them fitted closely together and the sharp corners were all worn off. One of the arched doorways was half filled up with rubble. The two children kept on turning round and round to look at the different sides of the courtyard. One reason was that they were afraid of somebody.or something.looking out of those windows at them when their backs were turned.
“Do you think anyone lives here？” said Digory at last， still in a whisper.
“No，” said Polly. “It’s all in ruins. We haven‘t heard a sound since we came.”
“Let’s stand still and listen for a bit，” suggested Digory.
They stood still and listened， but all they could hear was the thump.thump of their own hearts. This place was at least as quiet as the Wood between the Worlds. But it was a different kind of quietness. The silence of the wood had been rich and warm （you could almost hear the trees growing） and full of life： this was a dead， cold， empty silence. You couldn‘t imagine anything growing in it.
“Let’s go home，” said Polly.