The very air seemed to be filled
with the vague musty odor of by-gone times, and the impression grew
upon me that I had unawares stepped into a lumber-room, where the
eighteenth century was stowed away for safe-keeping.
"You see I have a weakness for old furniture," explained my host,
while his rigid features labored for an instant to adjust themselves
into something resembling a smile. I imagined I could hear them
creaking faintly in the effort like tissue-paper when crumpled by an
unwary hand. I almost regretted my rudeness in having subjected him to
the effort. I noticed that he spoke with a slow, laborious
enunciation, as if he were fashioning the words carefully in his mouth
before making up his mind to emit them. His thin, flexible lips seemed
admirably adapted for this purpose.
"It is the only luxury I allow myself," he continued, seeing that I
was yet ill at ease. "My assortment, as you will observe, is as yet a
very miscellaneous one, and I do not know that I ever shall be able to
complete it."
"You are a fortunate man," remarked I, "who can afford to indulge such
expensive tastes."
"Expensive," he repeated musingly, as if that idea had never until
then occurred to him. "You are quite mistaken.
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