Then he let the pen fall on the blotter, for he had remembered the day.
After an instant's hesitation he took a couple of hundred-dollar
bank-notes out of a drawer (I think they were gifts for his two sisters
on Christmas day, for he is a generous brother; and most likely there
would be some small domestic joke about engravings to go with them);
these he placed in the right-hand pocket of his waistcoat.
In his left-hand waistcoat pocket were two five-dollar notes.

Harry was now arrayed for church. He was a figure to please any
woman's eye, thought his mother, as she walked beside him, and gloried
silently in his six feet of health and muscle and dainty cleanliness.
He was in a most amiable mood, what with the Saint Bernards and
the season. As they approached the cathedral close, Harry, not for
the first time, admired the pure Gothic lines of the cathedral,
and the soft blending of grays in the stone with the warmer hues
of the brown network of Virginia creeper that still fluttered,
a remnant of the crimson adornings of autumn. Beyond were the bare,
square outlines of the old college, with a wooden cupola perched
on the roof, like a little hat on a fat man, the dull-red tints
of the professors' houses, and the withered lawns and bare trees.
The turrets and balconies and arched windows of the boys'
school displayed a red background for a troop of gray uniforms
and blazing buttons; the boys were forming to march to church.
Opposite the boys' school stood the modest square brick house that
had served the first bishop of the diocese during laborious years.
Now it was the dean's residence. Facing it, just as you
approached the cathedral, the street curved into a half-circle
on either side, and in the centre the granite soldier on his shaft
looked over the city that would honor him. Harry saw the tall