A great walnut monstrosity meagrely equipped performed the functions of a sideboard.
The chairs, ten straight-backed, and two easy by the fireplace, of which one was armless, were upholstered in saddlebag, yellow and green.
In the bay of the red-curtained window was a huge terra-cotta bust of an ivy-crowned and inane Austrian female.

There was a great fireplace in which a huge fire blazed cheerily, and on the broad, deep hearth stood little coloured plaster figures of stags, of gnomes, of rabbits, one ear dropping, the other ear cocked, of galloping hounds unknown to the fancy, scenting and pursuing an invisible foe.
She watched him as he scanned the room.
"Who is Mr.Finn ?" he asked in a low voice.
"Many years ago he was 'Finn's Fried Fish.' Now he's 'Fish Palaces, Limited.' They're all over London.

You can't help seeing them even from a motor car." "I've seen them," said Paul.
The argument outside the door having ended in a victory for the host, he entered the room, pushing Barney Bill gently in front of him.

For the first time Paul saw him in the full light.

He beheld a man sharply featured, with hair and beard, once raven-black, irregularly streaked with white--there seemed to be no intermediary shades of grey--and deep melancholy eyes.