In the center of an arched opening in this wall a white hot globe flamed, lighting into still more dazzling cleanliness a broad flight of marble steps which led by a half turn to unknown regions above.

Young people were crowding into the elevator, girls in dainty costumes predominating.
They seemed wondrously flowerlike and birdlike to the plainsman, and brought back his school days at the seminary, and the time when he was at ease with young people like this.

He had gone far from them now--their happy faces made him sad.
He walked up the stairway, four flights, and came to a long hall, which rustled and rippled and sparkled with flights of young girls--eager, vivid, excited, and care-free.

A few men moved about like dull-coated robins surrounded by orioles and canary birds.
A bland old man with clean-shaven mouth seemed to be the proper source of information, and to him Harold stepped with his question.
The old man smiled.

"Miss Yardwell?
Yes--she is one of our most valued pupils.