“Some of the great roads running north from London stretch far out of the city, like exhausted and sparse ghosts of streets, with huge gaps in development, but maintaining a general line. Here you can see a cluster of shops, followed by a fenced field, then a famous tavern, then a vegetable garden or nursery, then a large private house, then a new field and another inn, and so on. If someone decides to take a walk along one of these roads, he will see a house that will involuntarily attract his attention, although he may have difficulty explaining why. It is a long, low building running parallel to the road, painted white and pale green, with a veranda, curtains on the windows and fancy domes over the entrances, like wooden umbrellas, such as you see in some old houses. In essence it is an old-fashioned house, typically country and typically English, in the well-to-do style of good old Clapham. However, the house gives the impression that it was built for a hot climate. Looking at the white walls and light curtains, the observer vaguely imagines turbans and even palm trees. I cannot determine the reason for this feeling: probably the house was built by an Englishman who lived for a long time in India...”