She is Mr.Kling's child." "And your name ?" "O'Day." "Irish, of course--well, all the same, come down any morning this week.
My name is Ganger; I'm on the fourth floor--been there twenty-two years.
You'll have to walk up--we all do.

Yes, I'll expect you." Kling, whom Felix consulted, began at once to demur.

He knew all about the building on 10th Street.

More than one of his old frames--part of the clearing-out sale of some Southern homestead, the portraits being reserved because unsalable--had resumed their careers on the walls of the Academy as guardians and protectors of masterpieces painted by the denizens of this same old rattletrap, the Studio Building.

Some of its tenants, too, had had accounts with him--which had been running for more than a year.