There was a smell of flowers, but it was faint, and he thought it harmonized with the subdued lighting of the room.

A horizontal piano stood in a corner and the dark, polished rosewood had dull reflections; some music lay about, but not in disorder, and he noted the delicate modeling of the cabinet with diamond panes it had been taken from.

He knew nothing about furniture, but he had an eye for line and remarked the taste that characterized the rest of the articles.
There were a few landscapes in water-color, and one or two pieces of old china, of a deep blue that struck the right note of contrast with the pale-yellow wall.
Festing felt that the house had an influence; a gracious influence perhaps, but vaguely antagonistic to him.

He had thought of a house as a place in which one ate and slept, but did not expect it to mold one's character.

Surroundings like this were no doubt Helen Dalton's proper environment, but he came from the outside turmoil, where men sweated and struggled and took hard knocks.
In the meantime, he talked to and studied the two ladies.