Explore "Love in Chief" by R.K. Weekes on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A royal stag, whose many-branched and palmate antlers showed that he had seen at least ten springs, looked down upon the mantel-piece of Noel Farquhar's library; a huge elk fronted him across the room. This style of decoration, which took its origin in the simple skull palisades of primitive Britain and latter-day Africa, which was handed down by the traditions of Tower Hill, and which is rampant in the modern hall, had in Noel Farquhar a devotee. The walls of his smoking-room bristled with the heads of digested enemies. Thither the two men repaired after dinner on Christmas night, taking with them a decanter of mid-century port, cigars of indubitable excellence, and a dish of nuts for Lucian, who took a childlike interest in extracting and peeling walnuts without breaking the kernel. Farquhar was inclined to be silent, in which mood Lucian, the student of the abnormal, found him specially interesting.
"Queer chap you are Farquhar," he suddenly remarked. "Why didn't you ever tell me about the fascinating Fanes?"