Oh, no wonder she became a neurotic invalid, shut up from week's end to week's end with a dyspeptic, irritable scholar in an old dressing-gown." Indeed, it must be owned, in spite of all Malcolm's eloquence, Anna was singularly perverse on this subject, and absolutely refused to burn incense to his hero.
As Anna must have her way on her birthday, Malcolm said no more, and the next moment they arrived at their destination--a gray, dingy-looking old house, somewhat high and narrow, overlooking the river.
The first floor windows opened on a balcony, which had an awning over it.

Two or three deck-chairs had been placed there, and on summer evenings Malcolm loved to sit there, either alone or with a congenial spirit, enjoying the refreshing breezes from the river.
The house belonged to his friend Amias Keston, and some years before he had built himself a studio in the back garden.

As his income was remarkably small, and his work at that time far from remunerative, he was obliged to let the upper floor.

The situation charmed Malcolm, and the society of his old friend was a strong inducement, so they soon came to terms.

Malcolm was an ideal lodger; he gave little trouble, beyond having his bath filled and his boots well polished.