There was to be plantation music in the studio after dinner--for Mrs.Fisher, despairing of the republic, had taken up modelling, and annexed to her small crowded house a spacious apartment, which, whatever its uses in her hours of plastic inspiration, served at other times for the exercise of an indefatigable hospitality.

Lily was reluctant to leave, for the dinner was amusing, and she would have liked to lounge over a cigarette and hear a few songs; but she could not break her engagement with Judy, and shortly after ten she asked her hostess to ring for a hansom, and drove up Fifth Avenue to the Trenors'.
She waited long enough on the doorstep to wonder that Judy's presence in town was not signalized by a greater promptness in admitting her; and her surprise was increased when, instead of the expected footman, pushing his shoulders into a tardy coat, a shabby care-taking person in calico let her into the shrouded hall.

Trenor, however, appeared at once on the threshold of the drawing-room, welcoming her with unusual volubility while he relieved her of her cloak and drew her into the room.
"Come along to the den; it's the only comfortable place in the house.
Doesn't this room look as if it was waiting for the body to be brought down?
Can't see why Judy keeps the house wrapped up in this awful slippery white stuff--it's enough to give a fellow pneumonia to walk through these rooms on a cold day.

You look a little pinched yourself, by the way: it's rather a sharp night out.

I noticed it walking up from the club.