The interior of the professor’s office screamed wealth and ancientness. It smelled of it too. Perhaps it came with the perks of being a history lecturer. Emma thought, but discounted it immediately. She couldn’t imagine the previous history professor staying under this air of wealth and ancientness.
She could tell that the room had been repainted and refurbished, by appearance of the walls which shone with a newness quality. There were marks on the shelves that told a story of the rearrangement of books, and the discard of the some which had outlived their usefulness.
The room had a kind of musty odor, evocative of grandparents’ houses, the type that makes you feel safe and cozy, and curious; the air of mysteriousness accompanied and enhanced by the ancientness made the latter so. It was
