Explore "The Pagan's Cup" by Fergus Hume on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Pratt sat alone in his library. He was not reading, for although he had many books he rarely looked into one of them. He collected rare editions, he indulged in gorgeous bindings, and placed all his gatherings on shelves behind glass doors. It was the look of the thing Pratt liked. If his collection had been so many volumes of blank pages he would have been just as well pleased.
As the evening was cold there was a fire in the steel grate. The room looked comfortable and luxurious. It was decorated in dark red, with bookcases of rosewood, and many busts of celebrated men. On the desk stood a reading lamp, and this was the only light in the room. Before the desk sat Pratt. He was playing with a small pile of precious stones which he had shaken out of a leathern belt. The jewels gleamed in the light with rainbow hues, and Pratt fingered them with loving care, recalling where each one had been bought and found. He was crazy about his gems, but never showed them to anyone. Moreover, in addition to his liking for such things, it was a portable way of carrying about his wealth.