for introublelately
London in the rain is not particularly pleasant, especially in late November. Ruthven doesn't linger in the streets: he leads Eliza quickly to the Embankment house. It's part of a vast block of ornate buildings mostly taken over now by expensive condos or interior-design offices, and although he'd said it was unoccupied at least half the windows blaze with warm yellow light.
Inside, the great drawing-room is furnished with an eye to comfort as well as historical accuracy, and the sofas are not Victorian horsehair but soft leather, and the lights are electric. Deep colours from the velvet curtains and the Persian carpets are reflected in the glint of crystal and silver from the sideboard. It smells of books.
Ruthven ushers Eliza to a couch. "May I offer you a drink? There's a decent selection of brandy and scotch, and any number of teas, coffees, and so on."
Inside, the great drawing-room is furnished with an eye to comfort as well as historical accuracy, and the sofas are not Victorian horsehair but soft leather, and the lights are electric. Deep colours from the velvet curtains and the Persian carpets are reflected in the glint of crystal and silver from the sideboard. It smells of books.
Ruthven ushers Eliza to a couch. "May I offer you a drink? There's a decent selection of brandy and scotch, and any number of teas, coffees, and so on."