Again, you saw the top of a cab bowling along, but no horse: phantasmally.
Breakfast in Crawford's suite was merry enough.

Misfortune was turned into jest.

At least, they made a fine show of it; which is characteristic of people who bow to the inevitable whenever confronted by it.

Crawford was passing his cigars, when a page was announced.
The boy entered briskly, carrying a tray upon which reposed a small package.
"By special messenger, sir.

It was thought you might be liking to have it at once, sir." The page pocketed the shilling politely and departed.
"That's the first bit of live work I've seen anybody do in this hotel," commented Killigrew, striking a match.
"I have stopped here often," said Crawford, "and they are familiar with my wishes.