Mrs.Middlemist, looking like a rose in June, had already irradiated the wan November garden.

Miss Oldrieve he likened to a spring crocus, and Septimus (with a slap on the back) could choose the vegetable he would like to resemble.

They must look over the house before lunch.
Afterwards, outside, the great surprise awaited them.

What was it?
Ah! He turned laughing eyes on them, like a boy.
The great London firm to whom he had entrusted the furniture and decoration had done their splendid worst.

The drawing-room had the appearance of an hotel sitting-room trying to look coy.