THE NEW HOUSE
an open fireplace. His chair was pushed up to the fire and an impromptu tea-table covered with newspaper had been set beside it. His books were stacked in piles against the walls, and their mustiness contested with the clean smell of scrubbed and naked boards.
"A nice room," said Herbert. "On Sunday I shall have a good long day at the picture-hanging. I can't have these windows, Cicely; they're quite indecent. Haven't you even got a dust sheet to pin up across them? Any tramp———"
"I'll see. There won't be much light, though, anyhow. The man was in to-day about the fittings, and he says they won't be able to turn the gas on at the main till to-morrow afternoon. We shall have to do our best by candle-light. I've got some ready."
She folded paper into a spill and lighted a long row of candles, ranged in motley candlesticks along the chimney-piece.
"Tut-tut," said Herbert. "We shall find it very difficult to work. How tiresome these people are."
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