A few men chatted desultorily of burlesques, horses, the legs of actresses, the chances of politics.

The waiters moved quietly about with pathetic masks of satisfied servitude.

Valentine and the doctor conversed earnestly.
At first they spoke of a new symphony composed by a daring young Frenchman, who had striven to reproduce vices in notes and to summon up visions of things damnable by harmonic progressions which frequently defied the laws of harmony.

Levillier gently condemned him for putting a great art to a small and degraded use.
"His very success makes me regret the waste of his time more deeply, Cresswell," he said.

"He is a marvellous painter in sound.