Sinister Street by Compton Mackenzie — Read

The most of Michael's friends had availed themselves of the right of seniority to move into more dignified rooms for their second year. These "extensions of premises," as Castleton called them, reached the limit of expansion in the case of Lonsdale who, after a year's residence in two small ground-floor rooms of St. Cuthbert's populous quad, had acquired the largest suite of three in Cloisters. Exalted by palatial ambitions, he spent the first week of term in buttonholing people in the lodge, so that after whatever irrelevant piece of chatter he had seized upon as excuse he might wind up the conversation by observing nonchalantly:

"Oh, I say, have you chaps toddled round to my new rooms yet? Rather decent. I'm quite keen on them. I've got a dining-room now. Devilish convenient. Thought of asking old Wedders to lay in a stock of pictures. It would buck him up rather."