Indeed Mr. Moss's house, though somewhat dirty, was splendid throughout. There were dirty trays, and wine-coolers en permanence on the sideboard, huge dirty gilt cornices, with dingy yellow satin hangings to the barred windows which looked into Cursitor Street--vast and dirty gilt picture frames surrounding pieces sporting and sacred, all of which works were by the greatest masters--and fetched the greatest prices, too, in the bill transactions, in the course of which they were sold and bought over and over again. The Colonel's breakfast was served to him in the same dingy and gorgeous plated ware. Miss Moss, a dark-eyed maid in curl-papers, appeared with the teapot, and, smiling, asked the Colonel how he had slep? And she brought him in the Morning Post, with the names of all the great people who had figured at Lord Steyne's entertainment the night before. It contained a brilliant account of the festivities and of the beautiful and accomplished Mrs. Rawdon Crawley's admirable personifications.
After a lively chat with this lady (who sat on the edge of the breakfast table in an easy attitude displaying the drapery of her stocking and an ex-white satin shoe, which was down at heel), Colonel Crawley called for pens and ink, and paper, and being asked how many sheets, chose one which was brought to him between Miss Moss's own finger and thumb. Many a sheet had that dark-eyed damsel brought in; many a poor fellow had scrawled and blotted hurried lines of entreaty and paced up and down that awful room until his messenger brought back the reply. Poor men always use messengers instead of the post. Who has not had their letters, with the wafers wet, and the announcement that a person is waiting in the hall?

Indeed Mr. Moss's house, though somewhat dirty, was splendid throughout. There were dirty gilt cornices, with dingy yellow satin hangings to the barred windows; vast and dirty gilt picture frames surrounded works by the greatest masters - works which were sold and bought over and over again. The Colonel's breakfast was served to him in dingy and gorgeous silver-plated ware. Miss Moss, a dark-eyed maid in curl-papers, appeared with the teapot, and, smiling, asked the Colonel how he had slep? She brought him the Morning Post, which contained a brilliant account of Lord Steyne's festivities and of the beautiful and accomplished Mrs. Rawdon Crawley.
After a lively chat with this lady, Colonel Crawley called for pens and paper, and