The attic was no older than the rest of the house. Yet, from the first to me it was very old, old in the sense of dearness, old as the baby you hug and call “dear old thing” is not old in years, but just in the way he…
Sometimes I rented suites furnished, sometimes unfurnished, according to the demand. Two things every tenant provided for himself–sound and silence. His own personality manufactured these, just as he stamped his imprint on every inch of his environment, placing his furniture just so, hoisting and lowering his window blinds straight…
Friction quickly scraped the glamour of newness from my house-even from the start of its building. My Architect was a querulous, dictatorial man who antagonized his every workman. He had been recommended to me by an inlaw; like a fool I trusted and did not investigate for myself, making…
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