She plays the "Marseillaise" for Frenchmen, and "Dixie" for visiting Southerners, and "Mississippi" for the frequenters of Manhattan vaudeville shows.

And, then, at the right moment, her skilled fingers will drift suddenly into something different, some exquisite, inspired melody--the soul-child of some high immortal--and under the spell the noisy crowd grows still for a moment.

For even at the Black Cat they have not forgotten how to dream.
Probably the Black Cat inspired many other Village restaurants--the Purple Pup for instance.
The Purple Pup is a queer little place.

It is in a most exclusive and aristocratic part of the Square--in the basement of one of the really handsome houses, in fact.

It is, so far as is visible to the naked eye, quite well conducted, yet there is something mysterious about it.
Doubtless this is deliberately stage-managed and capitalised, but it is effectively done.