It is a plain, modestly but decently furnished room, such as you would expect to find in the modest house of a professor at Princeton.

During his presidency of the college, he had lived in the President's house in the college yard.

This was his own house of his professorial days.
"Hello, Page, come out here: I am glad to see you." There he stood in a door at the back of the room, which led to his library and work room.
"Come back here." "In the best of all possible worlds, the right thing does sometimes happen," said I.
"Yes." "And a great opportunity." He smiled and was cordial and said some pleasant words.

But he was weary.

"I have cobwebs in my head." He was not depressed but oppressed--rather shy, I thought, and I should say rather lonely.