opposite side, to the Jannan corner. The length of the brick dwelling,
with white arched windows and coursings faced the vague emptiness of
Washington Square, closed for the winter.

Inside the hall was bright and filled with the pungent warmth of fat
hearth coal. A servant, with a phrase of recognition, directed him
above, to a room burdened with masculine greatcoats and silk hats. There
an attendant told him that Mr. Jannan was below. Jasper Penny had no
intention of becoming a participant in the hall, but neither did he
propose to linger among wraps, listening to the supercilious chatter of
young men in the extreme mode of bright blue coats, painfully tight
black trousers with varnished pumps and expanses of ankle in grey silk.
One, inspecting him through an eyeglass on a woven hair guard, expressed
a pointed surprise at Jasper Penny's informal garb. "Christoval!" he
ejaculated. "It approaches an insult to the da-da-darlings." Another
commenced to sing a popular minstrel air:

"Blink--a--ho--dink! Ah! Ho!

"Roley Boley--Good morning Ladies all!"

Jasper Penny abruptly descended to a small room used for smoking. Young
men, he thought impatiently, could no longer even curse respectably.
They lisped like females at an embroidery frame. When he was young,
younger, he corrected himself, he could have outdrunk, outridden.... His
train of thought was abruptly terminated by a group unexpectedly
occupying the smoking room. He saw Stephen Jannan, his wife Liza, the
newly married young Jannans, and a strange woman in glacé muslin and a
black Spanish lace shawl about her shoulders. Stephen greeted him
cordially. "Jasper, just at the moment for a waltz with--with Susan."