He could live on four
hundred, or even three-fifty, without losing his independence, for there
would be no standing life in that holy woman's house unless he could pay
his own scot! A good day's work! The best for many a long month!
The cab stopped before the villa.
3
There are rooms which refuse to give away their owners, and rooms
which seem to say: 'They really are like this.' Of such was Rosamund
Larne's--a sort of permanent confession, seeming to remark to anyone
who entered: 'Her taste? Well, you can see--cheerful and exuberant; her
habits--yes, she sits here all the morning in a dressing-gown, smoking
cigarettes and dropping ink; kindly observe my carpet. Notice the
piano--it has a look of coming and going, according to the exchequer.
This very deep-cushioned sofa is permanent, however; the water-colours
on the walls are safe, too--they're by herself. Mark the scent of
mimosa--she likes flowers, and likes them strong. No clock, of course.
Examine the bureau--she is obviously always ringing for "the drumstick,"
and saying: "Where's this, Ellen, and where's that? You naughty gairl,
you've been tidying." Cast an eye on that pile of manuscript--she
has evidently a genius for composition; it flows off her pen--like
Shakespeare, she never blots a line.
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