It was a pretty, fresh, little room with flowered curtains, a blue rug, a luxurious chaise longue and a small French dressing table.
Very cheerful, very empty.

"It looks," she decided, "just like the bed feels.

I'm the first fellow who has been here.
"No," she corrected herself in a moment, "that's very ignorant of you, my dear.

This is a New York apartment, you know.

All kinds of other fellows have been in this room ahead of me; and they've lain awake by the hour here, planning how to get married or divorced, or getting ready to write a great book or make a million dollars, or sing in grand opera or murder their child.