"I haven't seen him around here in two weeks." "Laid up, they say," exclaimed Drouet.

"Say, he's a gouty old boy!" "Made a lot of money in his time, though, hasn't he ?" "Yes, and swift-pacer," laughed Drouet.
"I guess he can't hurt the business very much, though, with the other members all there." "No, he can't injure that any, I guess." Hurstwood was standing, his coat open, his thumbs in his pockets, the light on his jewels and rings relieving them with agreeable distinctness.

He was the picture of fastidious comfort.
To one not inclined to drink, and gifted with a more serious turn of mind, such a bubbling, chattering, glittering chamber must ever seem an anomaly, a strange commentary on nature and life.

Here come the moths, in endless procession, to bask in the light of the flame.

Such conversation as one may hear would not warrant a commendation of the scene upon intellectual grounds.