Ceilings and walls, once white, were stained with the golden-brown glaze of nicotine; the walls, timbered and coarsely pargeted, were enlivened with plaques and ornaments, trays and medallions of brass. Among them were curious rural relics: a set of quoits, chained and chrome-plated; stirrups and harness and crossed hunting crops; heads of foxes and a badger, grinning in dusty agony. Curlicued wall lamps, their shades replete with pebbles of colored glass, supplied a species of light. Across the main bar ran a head-high partition, its upper half set with panes of muffled glass. In one of the rooms so formed, half a dozen locals muttered round a late spring fire; the other had been taken over by some 20 strangers, girls and young men. They wore jeans and faded shirts, leather jackets and duffle coats, high boots, sombreros. The disposition of the group had secured for them possession of dart board and billiard table. On both, vigorous games were in progress. The landlord, a burly, bulbous-eyed man in shirt sleeves and cravat, watched darkly, occasionally confiding to an unseen in the back room that the influx did not, in his opinion, represent the best possible class of trade.
