His indulgent, luxurious character continually hungered after subdued, harmonious colours, pictures, ornaments, and soft rugs.

His imagination was forever covering the white walls with rough stone-blue paper, and placing screens, divans, and window-seats in different parts of the cold bare room.

One morning he had even gone so far as to pin about the walls little placards which he had painted with a twisted roll of the hotel letter-paper dipped into the inkstand.

"Pipe-rack Here." "Mona Lisa Here." "Stove Here." "Window-seat Here." He had left them up there ever since, in spite of the chambermaid's protests and Ellis' clumsy satire.
Now, however, he had plenty of money.

He would have his furniture back within the week.