Strangely enough, Robert Dalton never attempted to repair the estate, taking pride rather in its air of decay. This statement is not entirely accurate. He did, indeed, fit up the ancient drawing-room for the purposes of a library, thrusting in rows of bookcases beside long antique mirrors and mahogany window seats. These bookcases were filled entirely with reports of courts, late digests, the decisions of tribunals of last resort, and volume after volume on wills, contracts, and corporations, but scarcely a volume on standard or current literature. For these latter he had no inclination, and, as he apologetically explained, no time.
In this library, Dalton did most of his legal work, obtaining here freedom from interruption and the quiet which he required.
As the city developed, this neglected suburban street was seized upon and assumed as the fashionable quarter by the wealthy Eastern families. They paved it far into the country, and ruthlessly wiped out the splendid old homesteads, erecting on their ruins ostentatious palaces with prim lawns, reminding one
