The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround. None this end. At the first glance, he imagined he must have stumbled upon a museum of rarities, there were so many glass-cases, so many open cabinets, ranged against the walls; but the next convinced him that if Jonathan was a virtuoso, his tastes did not run in the ordinary channels. “Anna!” she repeated. She has been a dear. The attempt was unsuccessful. She did not learn the kind of looks she had been bestowing upon him at a convent.
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