A samovar stood on a little square table in the corner, and beside it a tin box of biscuits.

The dormer-windows were hung with Eastern stuffs, a Roman lamp stood on the mantel, a Koran-holder held Omar Khayyam second-hand, and Meredith's last novel, and "Anna Karenina," and "Salammbo," and two or three recent numbers of the _Figaro_.

Here and there on the wall a Salon photograph was fastened.

A study of a girl's head that Nadie had given her was stuck with a Spanish dagger over the fireplace.

A sketch of Vambety's and one of Kendal's, sacredly framed, hung where she could always see them.
There was a vague suggestion of roses about the room, and a mingled fragrance of joss-sticks and cigarettes.
The candle shone principally upon a little bronze Buddha, who sat lotus-shrined on the writing-table among Elfrida's papers, with an ineffable, inscrutable smile.