"I asked him to design some doors for us."
"You did?"
"Yes. He said he had a new idea that he'd like to try."
"You must get your landlord to pass on that. He might not like the new idea."
"Think not?"
"He might object. It would all come on his hands in the end."
"We'd better go on with it, don't you think?"
"But don't let it be anything too unusual or too elaborate." Architects, he understood, generally charged a commission on the cost of the work; so much per cent.—five, he had heard. "We don't want to go in too deep."
They left the table and sauntered slowly into the parlor—the drawing-room, Jessie called it. The standing lamp sent out a broad glare from under its shade of crinkled yellow paper, and the floor of the room burned with a dull and unaccustomed red—the red of a handsome Turkish rug.
"Ah, what's this?" exclaimed George.