He had been most efficient in all ways and McCleary was grateful and filled with admiration of him.

He had taken him without knowing who he was, merely because Reynolds requested it, but he now said: "Hank, you're a jim-dandy; I want you.

When you've had your spree here, you come back with me and I'll do the right thing by ye." Harold thanked him in offhand phrase and went early to bed.
He had not slept in a hotel bed since the night in Marmion when Jack was with him, and the wonderful charm and mystery and passion of those two days, so intimately wrought in with passionate memories of Mary, came back upon him now, keeping him awake till nearly dawn.

He arose late and yet found only McCleary at breakfast; the other men had remained so long in the barroom that sleep and drunkenness came together.
After breakfast Harold wandered out into the street.

To his left a hundred towers of dull gray smoke rose, and prodigious buildings set in empty spaces were like the cliffs of red stone in the Quirino.