Edmund Crispin

 Helen was in her room, writing letters. It was a large room, light, airy, and meticulously clean and tidy, and although most of the furniture and ornaments were not hers, she had succeeded, as women always can, in impressing on them the stamp of her own individuality without any striving after effect. Beyond that, Nigel noted, there was also the generic aspect: it was unmistakably a woman’s room, the reason being—thought Nigel, succumbing to the masculine habit of analysis ...the number of small objects which it contained... unmistakably feminine.