Hunting prints hung in the hall; rows of mediocre, though pleasing, family portraits in the dining-room.

The long drawing-room at the back of the house, overlooking the lawns and a far prospect, was a much inhabited room, cheerful and shabby.

There were old-fashioned water-colour landscapes, porcelain in cabinets and on shelves, and many tables crowded with ivory and silver bric-a-brac; things from India and things from China, that Digbys in the Army and Digbys in the Navy had brought home.
'What a Philistine room it is,' said Gerald, smiling as he looked around him; 'but I must say I like it just as it is.

It has never made an aesthetic effort.' Gerald's smile irradiated the whole house for Althea, and lit up, in especial, the big, sunny school-room where he and Helen found most memories of all.

'The same old table, Helen,' he said, 'and other children have spilled ink on it and scratched their initials just as we used to; here are yours and mine.