Then he feasted,
with strange composure, upon the house.
Neither Bog nor a much wiser metaphysician could explain it; but the
house, and all around it, seemed to be glorified by the loved one
within. The newly painted door was bright with love; the polished
doorplate and bell handle glistened with love. The name Pillbody looked,
somehow, musical and winning, because the owner of that name was the
teacher and dear companion of Pet. The carved stone roses over the door
seemed to be truly the emblems of love. It was a silly notion; but, in
Bog's eyes, love imparted a not unpleasant expression to the grim lions'
faces that looked down from the roof. But the green window curtains with
gold borders were the most significant symbols of love, in his eyes. Bog
felt that curtains of any other color would be wholly out of place in
that house. The patch of a garden, scarcely bigger than a bathroom, in
front of the house; the single fir tree that grew up in the middle of
it; the black iron railing; the door steps, and the pavement--all took
their share of beatitude from the joy within.
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