Cole was middle-aged,--though his wife was young,--and had
really a very large practice.
So next day, the newly-wedded pair called on a house-agent in Mayfair,
and his son and partner went with them to several places. The rents of
houses equal to that in Harewood Square were three hundred pounds a year
at least, and a premium to boot.
Christopher told him these were quite beyond the mark. "Very well," said
the agent. "Then I'll show you a Bijou."
Rosa clapped her hands. "That is the thing for us. We don't want a large
house, only a beautiful one, and in Mayfair."
"Then the Bijou will be sure to suit you."
He took them to the Bijou.
The Bijou had a small dining-room with one very large window in two
sheets of plate glass, and a projecting balcony full of flowers; a still
smaller library, which opened on a square yard enclosed. Here were a
great many pots, with flowers dead or dying from neglect. On the first
floor a fair-sized drawing-room, and a tiny one at the back: on the
second floor, one good bedroom, and a dressing-room, or little bedroom:
three garrets above.
Rosa was in ecstasies. "It is a nest," said she.
"It is a bank-note," said the agent, stimulating equal enthusiasm, after
his fashion.
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