The gigantic strands of the Brooklyn Bridge showed through it like some aerial path to a fabulous land, while, merging fast in the shadows, other dim specters told of even greater engineering marvels higher up the East River.

A fleet of bustling vessels, for the most part ferry-boats and tugs of every possible size and shape, scudded across the spacious waterways, and lent to the picture exactly that semblance of vitality, of energetic purpose, of relentless effort to be up and doing--whether the New Yorker was going home from his office, or his wife was coming into town for dinner and a theater--which one, at least, of the city's uncounted sons had confidently expected to find in it.
So John Delancy Curtis drew a deep breath that sounded almost like a sigh, but a pleasant smile illumined his somewhat stern face as he turned to Devar and said: "I am giving myself fourteen days' free run of the town before I go West to visit some relatives.

They live in Indiana, I believe.
Bloomington, Monroe County, is the latest address I possess.

Don't forget to ring me up to-morrow.

You remember the hotel, the Central, in West 27th Street." "Oh, forget it!" cried the other vexedly.