It was a charming veranda, long and low, opening through French windows directly into the living room which, like itself, was long and low, and charming.
There is a charm in rooms which can be felt but not described.

It exists apart from the furnishings and even the occupants; it is an essence, haunting, intangible--the soul of the room! only there are many rooms which have no soul.
Through the living room at the Elms vagrant breezes entered, loitered, and drifted out again, leaving behind them scents of sun-warmed flowers.
The light there was soft and green.

The comfortable chairs invited rest; the polished rosewood table, the bright piano shining in the brightest corner, the smooth old floor in whose rug the colours had long ceased to trouble, the general air of much used comfort, satisfied and refreshed.
Esther loved the room.

Her first childish memory was of the rosewood table shining like a pool in the lamplight and of her own wondering face reflected in it, with her father's laughing eyes behind.

In every way it was associated with the beginnings of things.