Harold Prewett sat in the broad, black-walnut seat of an ambiguous piece of furniture which branched above, in spreading antlers, into a rack for coats and hats and which below, at either side, provided means for the disposition of canes and umbrellas. The mere presence of these heavy, sullen antlers was sufficiently dispiriting to increase the gloomy atmosphere which environed the young man. The room in which he sat waiting was a hallway. Through a vestibule one entered it from the street, and it served its purpose as the main artery through which the life of the house flowed, by offering entrances and exits to the other rooms on that floor and, by way of a staircase, carpeted in turkey-red and guarded by black-walnut banisters, it led to regions above. There was a high wainscot of the oppressive black-walnut, and the wall from the wainscot to the solid panelled ceiling was covered with a thick embossed paper, bronze in colour, embellished with a grandiose and florid, semi-heraldic pattern. The vestibule door and the door into the street beyond were both open and the warm June light filtered through and somewhat dispelled the
