Library

"Ehh! No, my lord."

"You would have a full right to, my Bulter, and if I sacked you on top of drinking, the type of coffee that you prepare, I would deserve everything you could say about me. You're a demon for coffee, Bulter—I really do not want to know, how you do that , as I suppose it to be witchcraft, and I don't want to burn eternally. You can buy your cross-eyed lens.Ok! "

"Thank you so much, my lord."

"Are you done, in the dining-room?"

"Not as yet, my lord."

"Well, come back here, when you are done. I have many things to narrate to you. Yes??! who is there?"

The doorbell outside had rung noisily.

"Untill and unless it is somebody who I am interested in, just say that I'm not at home."

"Very good, my lord. As you say!"

Lord Edward's library was one of the rxtremely amazing bachelor rooms in the entire London. It had a color coordination of black and primrose; its walls were full with rare edition books, and its chairs and Chesterfield couch depicted the embraces of the houris. In one corner was placed a black baby grand, a wooden fire- place leaped on a broad old-fashioned hearth, and the Sèvres vases on top of the chimney-piece were filled with ruddy and gold chrysanthemum flowers. To the mind of the young man, who was ushered in from the raw November fog, it appeared not only unique and unattainable, but also amicable and familiar, like a colourful and gilded paradise in a mediaeval painting.