How soon shall I bring you in your breakfast ?" "In about twenty minutes," said Larry.
Exactly twenty minutes later Judkins carried in a tray, and set it on a table beside a window looking down into Park Avenue.

"Miss Sherwood asked me to tell you she would see you in the library at ten o'clock, sir--where she saw you last night," said Judkins, and noiselessly was gone.
Freshly shaven, tingling from his bath, with a sense of being garbed flawlessly, though in garments partly alien, Larry addressed himself to the breakfast of grapefruit, omelette, toast and coffee, served on Sevres china with covers of old silver.

In his more prosperous eras Larry had enjoyed the best private service that the best hotels in New York had to sell; but their best had been coarse and slovenly compared to this.

He would eat for a minute or two--then get up and look at his carefully dressed self in the full-length mirror--then gaze from his high, exclusive window down into Park Avenue with its stream of cars comfortably carrying their occupants toward ten o'clock jobs in Wall or Broad Streets--and then he would return to his breakfast.

This was amazing--bewildering! He was toward the end of his omelette when a knock sounded at his door.
Thinking Judkins had returned, he called, "Come in"; but instead of Judkins the opening door admitted the belligerent young man in rumpled evening clothes of the previous night.