He had immediately put a
glass into one eye and looked round; and then "By Jove, she has some
jolly good things!" he had yearningly murmured. The room was small and
densely filled with furniture; it gave an impression of faded silk and
little statuettes which might totter if one moved. Rosier got up and
wandered about with his careful tread, bending over the tables charged
with knick-knacks and the cushions embossed with princely arms. When
Madame Merle came in she found him standing before the fireplace
with his nose very close to the great lace flounce attached to the
damask cover of the mantel. He had lifted it delicately, as if he were
smelling it.
"It's old Venetian," she said; "it's rather good."
"It's too good for this; you ought to wear it."
"They tell me you have some better in Paris, in the same situation."
"Ah, but I can't wear mine," smiled the visitor.
"I don't see why you shouldn't! I've better lace than that to wear."
His eyes wandered, lingeringly, round the room again. "You've some
very good things."
"Yes, but I hate them."
"Do you want to get rid of them?" the young man quickly asked.
"No, it's good to have something to hate: one works it off!"
"I love my things," said Mr.
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