Yet on close inspection there is much wear and tear a mortal sin, Marian thinks.
Towering above them, ballustraded and pavillioned and mullioined and multi-storeyed, it leaves the Rolfes with jaws agape.
Along with their young son David in tow, they drive the couple hours upstate, out of the city, and find a home, a mansion, an estate really, set back in foresty wilds. Knowing she can't spend another sweltering season in their Queens apartment, Marian Rolfe finds and shows her husband Ben an ad in the paper about a countryside home to rent "for the right people," (Ben hears a dog whistle and comments racist pigs but Marian is not dissuaded). Everyone was looking to get out (a bit of a theme in vintage horror) and if you could afford it, renting a summer home was tops. New York City sucked in the '70s and it sucked especially in the summer back when A/C wasn't a commonplace household item.
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