The parlor door was open; the rarely used showroom gave forth an earthy, moldy odor like that of a disturbed grave.

Its shutters, for the first time in perhaps a year, were open; the mud daubers that had built in the crevices between shutters and sills, fancying they would never be disturbed, were buzzing crossly about their ruined homes.

The four men were seated, each with his legs crossed, and each wearing the funereal expression befitting a solemn occasion.
Susan did not lift her eyes.

The profusely whiskered man seated on the haircloth sofa smoothed his black alpaca coat, reset the black tie deep hid by his beard, rose and advanced with a clerical smile whose real kindliness took somewhat from its offensive unction.

"This is the young lady, is it ?" said he, reaching for Susan's rising but listless hand.