In the rare
evenings when I may give myself up to solid comfort and a new book it
becomes a haven of refuge after the business of the day. When I choose
to work at home with my secretary, it is as business-like a place as my
down-town office. It is a sort of room of all trades, and good for each
of them.
The walls of the room are pretty well filled with built-in bookshelves,
windows, chimney-piece, and doors, but there is one long wall space for
the day bed and another for the old secretary that holds my porcelain
figurines. The room is really quite small, but by making the furniture
keep its place against the walls an effect of spaciousness has been
obtained.
The walls of the room are painted the palest of egg-shell blue-green.
The woodwork is ivory white, with applied decorations of sculptured
white marble. The floor is entirely covered with a carpet rug of jade
green velvet, and there is a smaller Persian rug of the soft,
indescribable colors of the Orient. The day bed, of which I spoke in an
earlier paragraph, is covered with an old brocade, gray-green figures on
a black ground. A large armchair is also covered with the brocade, and
the window curtains, which cannot be seen in the picture, are of black
chintz, printed with birds of pale greens and blues and grays, with
beaks of rose-red.
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