The first one he found to be situated up several flights of stairs and was closed; so was the second.

The third was in a brilliantly lighted building which towered high above the street.

On the eighth floor in a small office a young girl with severe cast of countenance (and hair parted on one side) looked up from her writing and coldly inquired: "Is there anything I can do for you ?" "Is there a girl named Mary Yardwell in your school ?" he asked with some effort, feeling a hot flush in his cheek--a sensation new to him.
"I don't think so, I'll look," replied the girl with business civility.
She thumbed a book to see and at length replied, "No, sir, there is not." "Much obliged." "Not at all," replied the girl calmly, resuming her work.
Harold went down the steps to avoid the elevator.

The next place was oppressive with its grandeur.

A tremendous wall, cold and dark (except for a single row of lighted windows), loomed high overhead.