"I'm writing a History of Fortification."
"It sounds plaguy dull!"
"So it does!" he agreed. In time they came to the library and study but on the threshold of that small, bare chamber, my lady paused.
"You poor soul!" she exclaimed. The Major looked startled. "'Tis here you sit and write?" she demanded. He admitted it. "And not so much as a rug on the floor!"
"Rugs are apt to—er—encumber one's feet!" he suggested.
"Nor a picture to light this dull panelling! Not a cushion, not a footstool! O 'tis a dungeon, 'tis deadly drear and smells horribly of tobacco—faugh!"
"Shall we rejoin the company?" he ventured.
"So bare, so barren!" she sighed, "so lorn and loveless!" Here she sank down at the desk in the Major's great armchair and shook disparaging head at him: "Why not work in comfort?"
"Is it so lacking?" he questioned, "I was content——"
"With very little, sir!"