Austerity was the note through it all, austerity even in the pictures
upon the walls. They were prints, old prints, coloured or plain,
representing boxers of the old school, stripped to the waist, the
ugly muscles flexed and bulging as they raised their lithe arms in
the attitude of defence. There were no other pictures but these;
nothing to show that he had a heart above boxing. There was one thing.
In their journey around the walls, Sally's eyes fell on a little
coloured miniature in a plain gold frame that hung by the side of
the bureau. At that distance, she could distinguish that it was a
girl, a girl with fair hair that clustered on her shoulders. The
beating of her heart dropped to a whisper when she saw it, all the
pulses stopped, and she felt a cool, damp air blowing across her face.
"Well," said Traill, with a smile, "I suppose you think it is
confoundedly uncomfortable?"
She turned, faced him, forcing strength to master her sudden
apprehension.
"I think it's absolutely lovely," she said, with simplicity. "I've
never seen a room like it before."
"And you don't find the want of soft things, cushions and all that
sort of business?"
"No, oh no! they'd spoil it.
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