Helen looked delicious in the yard, gazing pensively at the slothful rhododendron while James Ollerenshaw opened his door.  She was seen by two electric cars-full of people, for although James’s latchkey was very highly polished and the lock well oiled, he never succeeded in opening his door at the first attempt.  It was a capricious door.  You could not be sure of opening it any more than Beau Brummel could be sure of tying his cravat.  It was a muse that had to be wooed.

But when it did open you perceived that there were no half measures about that door, for it let you straight into the house.  To open it was like taking down part of the wall.  No lobby, hall, or vestibule behind that door!  One instant you were in the yard, the next you were in the middle of the sitting-room, and through a doorway at the back of the sitting-room you could see the kitchen, and beyond that the scullery, and beyond that a back yard with a whitewashed wall.

James Ollerenshaw went in first, leaving Helen to follow.  He had learnt much in the previous hour, but there were still one or two odd things left for him to learn.

“Ah!” he breathed, shut the door, and hung up his hard hat on the inner face of it.  “Sit ye down, lass.”

So she sat her down.  It must be said that she looked as if she had made a mistake and got on to the wrong side of Trafalgar-road.  The sitting-room was a crowded and shabby little apartment (though clean).  There was a list carpet over the middle of the floor, which was tiled, and in the middle of the carpet a small square table with flap-sides.  On this table was a full-rigged ship on a stormy sea in a glass box, some resin, a large stone bottle of ink, a ready reckoner, Whitaker’s Almanack (paper edition), a foot-rule, and a bright brass candlestick.  Above the table there hung from the ceiling a string with a ball of fringed paper, designed for the amusement of flies.  At the window was a flat desk, on which were transacted the affairs of Mr. Ollerenshaw.  When he stationed himself at it in the seat of custom and of judgment, defaulting tenants, twirling caps or twisting aprons, had a fine view of the left side of his face.  He usually talked to them while staring out of the window.  Before this desk was a Windsor chair.  There were eight other Windsor chairs in the room—­Helen was sitting on one that had not been sat upon for years and years—­a teeming but idle population of chairs.  A horsehair arm-chair seemed to be the sultan of the seraglio of chairs.  Opposite the window a modern sideboard, which might have cost two-nineteen-six when new, completed the tale of furniture.  The general impression was one of fulness; the low ceiling, and the immense harvest of overblown blue roses which climbed luxuriantly up the walls, intensified this effect.  The mantelpiece was crammed with brass ornaments, and there were two complete sets of brass fire-irons in the brass fender.  Above the mantelpiece a looking-glass, in a wan frame of bird’s-eye maple, with rounded corners, reflected Helen’s hat.