Exchange closes. Others are business men, active or retired. Some don't
have any business--except what they're doing now."

"I want to know! Humph! They remind me of the gang in the billiard
room back home. The billiard-roomers--the chronic ones--don't have any
business, either, except to keep the dust from collectin' on the
chairs. That and talkin' about hard times. These chaps don't seem to be
sufferin' from hard times, much."

"No. Most of the younger set have rich fathers or have inherited money."

"I see. They let the old man do the worryin'. That's philosophy, anyhow.
What are they so interested in outside? Parade goin' by?"

"No. I imagine an unusually pretty girl passed just then."

"Is that so? Well, well! Say, Mr. Sylvester, the longer I stay in
New York the more I see that the main difference between it and South
Denboro is size. The billiard-room gang acts just the same way when the
downstairs school teacher goes past. Hello!"

"What is it?"

"That young chap by the mizzen window looks sort of familiar to me. The
one that stood up to shake a day-day to whoever was passin'. Hum! He's
made a hit, ain't he? I expect some unprotected female's heart broke at
that signal. I cal'late I know him."

"Who? Which one? Oh, that's young Corcoran Dunn. He is a lady-killer, in
his own estimation. How d'ye do, Dunn."