The Crown Hotel was lately built, and still retained the dusty, honeyed trace of fresh-planed lumber, the walls still beading gems of sap along each groove, the hearths still clean of ash and staining. Moody’s room was furnished very approximately, as in a pantomime where a large and lavish household is conjured by a single chair.
Love this. The beads of sap between the boards aand the pantomime chair conjure something hastily knocked together, ramshackle.
my overall impressio of this place is that its dark brown and dimly lit by lamps
