Two windows, with a
long dingy mirror set between them, looked out towards the Euston Road.
Venetian blinds and thin white curtains looped with yellow ribbon
shrouded them. On a slab that stuck out under the mirror was placed a
bundle of curling-pins tied with white tape, a small brush and comb,
and a bottle of cherry-blossom scent. Near the mirror stood a narrow
sofa covered with red rep. Upon this lay a man's upturned top-hat, in the
corner of which reposed a pair of reindeer gloves. A walking-stick with
a gold top stood against the wall, in a corner by the marble mantlepiece.
In the middle of the room lay a small open portmanteau, disclosing a
disorder of shirts, handkerchiefs, and boots, a cheque-book, a bottle
of brandy, and some brushes. By the fireplace there was a vulgar-looking
arm-chair upholstered in red. The room was full of the faint sound of
London voices and London traffic.
Julian went straight up to the gas chandelier and lit all three jets.
His action was hurried and abrupt. Then he set the candle down beside
the bundle of curling-pins, and turned sharply round to face the bed.
The room was now a glare of light, and in this glare of light the broad
bed with its white counterpane and sheets stood out harshly enough.
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