Howat Penny
gazed curiously at the tall, narrow dwellings, often a continuous,
similar facade from street corner to corner, then diversified in
elaborate, individual design. All, however, had deep stone steps leading
to the sidewalk, thronged with figures in airy white dresses, coatless
men smoking contentedly; there was a constant light vibration of
laughing voices and subdued calling, and the fainter strains of
mechanical music, the beat of popular marches and attenuated voices of
celebrated singers.
The motor turned suddenly in to the curb, and they got out. The house
before them, like its fellows, was entered from a high flight of red
sandstone steps, and was built of a smooth, soapy green stone, with red
coursings, an elaborate cornice and tiled Italian roof. No one was
sitting outside, although there was a pile of circular, grass-woven
cushions; and Howat sharply rang the bell. A maid in aproned black
admitted them into a narrow hall, from which stairs mounted with a
carved rail terminating in a newel post supporting an almost life-sized
bronze nymph, whose flowing hair was encircled by a wreath of
electrically lit flowers, and who held a dully shining sheaf of
jonquils. There was no other illumination, and Howat Penny discovered in
the obscurity a high mirror bristling with elk horns, on which hung
various hats and outer garments.
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