To look at Sanderson tying ribbons on funeral wreaths, no one would ever have supposed that there was rarely a first night at the opera at which he was not present, paying for his ticket, too, and rather despising Pestler, who got his theatre tickets free because he allowed the managers the use of his windows for advertisements.

Felix forgave even his frozen roses whenever the Scotchman, having found a sympathetic listener, launched out upon his earlier experiences among opera stars, especially his acquaintance with Patti, whom he had known before she became great and whom he always spoke of as devotees do of the Madonna--with bated breath and a sigh of despair that he would never hear her again.
Then, too, there was Codman.

O'Day was always enthusiastic over Codman.
"I have taken a great fancy to that fishmonger, and a fine fellow he is," he said one night to Kitty and John.

"His shop was shut when I first called on him, but he was good enough to open it at my knock, and I have just spent half an hour, and a very delightful half-hour, watching him handle the sea food, as he calls it, in his big refrigerator.

I got a look, too, at his chest and his arms, and at his pretty wife and children.