Its walls would be cupboards, in light-coloured wood, with fittings of gleaming brass. Three prints, depicting, respectively,
- the Derby winner Thunderbird,
- a paddle-steamer named Ville-de-Motitereau,
- and a Stephenson locomotive,
would lead to a leather curtain hanging on
thick, black, grainy wooden rings which would
slide
back at the merest touch.
There, the carpet would give way to an almost yellow woodblock floor, partly covered by three faded rugs.
It would be a living room about
twenty-three
feet
long
by
ten feet wide.
On the left, in a kind of recess, there would be a large sofa upholstered in worn black leather, with pale cherrywood bookcases on either side, heaped with books in untidy piles. Above the sofa, a mariner's chart would fill the whole length of that section of the wall. On the other side of a small low table, and beneath a silk prayer-mat nailed to the wall with three large-headed brass studs, matching the leather curtain,
there
would
be
another
sofa, at right angles to the first, with a light-brown velvet covering; it would lead on to a small and spindly piece of furniture, lacquered in dark red and providing three display shelves for knick-knacks: agates and stone eggs, snuffboxes, candy-boxes, jade ashtrays, a mother-of-pearl oystershell, a silver fob watch, a cut-glass glass, a crystal pyramid, a miniature in an oval frame.
Further on,
beyond a padded door, there would be shelving on both sides of the corner, for caskets and for records, beside a closed gramophone of which only four machined-steel knobs would be visible, and above it, a print depicting The Great Parade of the Military Tattoo.
Through the window, draped with white and brown curtains in cloth imitating Jouy wallpaper, you would glimpse a few trees, a tiny park, a bit of street. A roll-top desk littered with papers and pen-holders would go with a small cane-seated chair. On a console table would be
a telephone,
a leather diary,
a writing pad.
Then, on the other side of another door, beyond a low, square revolving bookcase supporting a large, cylindrical vase decorated in blue and filled with yellow roses, set beneath an oblong mirror in a mahogany frame, there would be a narrow table with its two benches upholstered in tartan, which would bring your eye back to the leather curtain.
It would be all in browns, ochres, duns and yellows: a world of slightly dull colours, in carefully graded shades, calculated with almost too much artistry, in the midst of which would be some striking, brighter splashes - a cushion in almost garish orange, a few multicoloured book jackets amongst the leather-bound volumes.
During the day, the light flooding in would make this room seem a little sad, despite the roses. It would be an evening room. But in the winter, with the curtains drawn, some spots illuminated -
- the bookcase corner,
- the record shelves,
- the desk,
- the low table between the two settees,
- and the vague reflections in the mirror
— and large expanses in shadow, whence all the things would gleam
- the polished wood,
- the rich,
- heavy silks,
- the cut glass,
- the softened leather —
it would be a haven of peace, a land of happiness.