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Updated: June 5, 2025
"That's all very well," I said impatiently, "but when one has to live in a house, one wants something more than artistic irregularity. Lammerton knows how to build for everyday existence; he's a practical man, as well as a man of taste, he may not be a Christopher Wrenn, but he understands conveniences and comforts.
"Oh, I'm sure it will turn out all right," she replied. "Now you'd better run along, I know you're late." "I am late," I admitted, rather lamely. "If you don't care for Lammerton's drawings, we'll get another architect." Several years before Mr. Lammerton had arrived among us with a Beaux Arts moustache and letters of introduction to Mrs. Durrett and others.
Secretly, I looked forward to certain luxuries, such as a bedroom and dressing-room and warm tiled bathroom all to myself bachelor privacies for which I had longed. Two mornings later at the breakfast table Maude asked me if I had thought of an architect. "Why, Archie Lammerton, I suppose. Who else is there? Have you anyone else in mind?" "N-no," said Maude.
Secretly, I looked forward to certain luxuries, such as a bedroom and dressing-room and warm tiled bathroom all to myself bachelor privacies for which I had longed. Two mornings later at the breakfast table Maude asked me if I had thought of an architect. "Why, Archie Lammerton, I suppose. Who else is there? Have you anyone else in mind?" "N-no," said Maude.
On one side of my dressing-room Archie Lammerton had provided a huge closet containing the latest devices for the keeping of a multitudinous wardrobe; there was a reading-lamp, and the easiest of easy-chairs, imported from England, while between the windows were shelves of Italian walnut which I had filled with the books I had bought while at Cambridge, and had never since opened.
"Of course it's a good reason," I assured her. "These people the people we know wouldn't have had Lammerton unless he was satisfactory. What's the matter with his houses?" "Well," said Maude, "they're not very original. I don't say they're not good, in away, but they lack a certain imagination.
"That's all very well," I said impatiently, "but when one has to live in a house, one wants something more than artistic irregularity. Lammerton knows how to build for everyday existence; he's a practical man, as well as a man of taste, he may not be a Christopher Wrenn, but he understands conveniences and comforts.
On one side of my dressing-room Archie Lammerton had provided a huge closet containing the latest devices for the keeping of a multitudinous wardrobe; there was a reading-lamp, and the easiest of easy-chairs, imported from England, while between the windows were shelves of Italian walnut which I had filled with the books I had bought while at Cambridge, and had never since opened.
Secretly, I looked forward to certain luxuries, such as a bedroom and dressing-room and warm tiled bathroom all to myself bachelor privacies for which I had longed. Two mornings later at the breakfast table Maude asked me if I had thought of an architect. "Why, Archie Lammerton, I suppose. Who else is there? Have you anyone else in mind?" "N-no," said Maude.
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