There were, too, pictures of other than the lodging-house type; engraved heads of the great in art and science, and a few reproductions in pencil or chalk of known subjects, perchance their possessor's own work.

On the table lay traces of literary occupation, sheets of manuscript, open books, and the like.

On another table stood a tray, with cups and saucers.

A kettle was boiling on the fire.
Waymark helped the conversation by offering a cup of coffee, which he himself made.
"You smoke, I hope ?" he asked, reaching some cigars from the mantelpiece.
Julian shook his head, with a smile.
"No?
How on earth do you support existence ?--At all events, you don't, as the railway-carriage phrase has it, object to smoking ?" "Not at all.

I like the scent, but was never tempted to go further." Waymark filled his pipe, and made himself conformable in a low cane-bottom chair, which had stood folded-up against the wall.