An Afternoon Visit

This evening's cravat is a textural treat of muted navy stripes alternating with faux ropes of creamy gold.  He detested these sorts of Command Performances, and at his age.  What was the point, besides placating the Old Treasure Chest as he now called her.  He got all dressed up on a Sunday when he'd rather be home in his sweats, and was ushered in to a room that looked like a museum:  huge draperies dripping in bullion fringe, and enough scrollwork to make any housemaid weep.  And the oils!  Who were these staring, hollow-cheeked people anyway? And why was one so distinctly behind the hulking mahogany secretary?