A few straggling plants in pots decorated it, but they looked neglected and shabby.

Yet the thought went through her, it might have been a bower of delight had they been in the closer accord of lovers who desire naught but each other.
The place was deserted, lighted only by a high window that looked into a billiard-room.

The window was closed, but the rattle of the balls and careless voices of the players came through the silence.

A dusty bench was let into the wall below it.
"Do you like this place ?" asked Fletcher Hill.
She glanced around her with a little nervous laugh.

"It's as good as any other, isn't it ?" His hand still held her arm.