"I have seen the door before. It looks very nice," remarked Molly.
"On the other side of that door," said Mr. Pollin, standing still and surveying the oak, "are two hundred and odd rare volumes, and three times as many more or less common ones,—also some easy chairs, and a man-servant capable of producing a modest luncheon."
"And cigarettes?" asked Miss Travers.
The gentleman gave her a look of pained inquiry.
"For you, my dear girl?" he queried.
"I have not smoked a cigarette for years," she replied, "but I learned how—oh, long ago."
"I have some excellent cigarettes," rejoined Mr. Pollin, kindly, as he fitted his latch-key in the door.
Molly found that, for a poor bachelor, her uncle lived very comfortably. She really did not see how one man and his valet could use so many rooms. The library was a charming place, walled with shelves of books, and warmed and brightened by a glowing fire. The floor had no carpet, but was thickly strewn with rugs. The chairs were of modern pattern and wicker ware, built for comfort rather than for looks. The big writing-table had books, magazines, and manuscripts scattered over it.
Mr. Pollin rang for his man, who appeared on the instant.
"My niece, Miss Travers, will lunch with me," he said.