In the
second story the blinds were drawn and on the first floor the
verandas were empty. Nor, not even after he had mounted to the
veranda and stepped inside the house, was there any sign that his
visit was expected. He stood in a hall, and in front of him rose a
broad flight of stairs that he guessed led to the private
supper-rooms. On his left was the restaurant.
Swept and garnished after the revels of the night previous, and as
though resting in preparation for those to come, it an air of
peaceful inactivity. At a table a maitre d'ho'tel was composing the
menu for the evening, against the walls three colored waiters
lounged sleepily, and on a platform at a piano a pale youth with
drugged eyes was with one hand picking an accompaniment. As Wharton
paused uncertainly the young man, disdaining his audience, in a
shrill, nasal tenor raised his voice and sang:
"And from the time the rooster calls I'll wear my overalls,
And you, a simple gingham gown. So, if you're strong for a
shower of rice, We two could make a paradise Of any One-Horse
Town."
At sight of Wharton the head waiter reluctantly detached himself
from his menu and rose. But before he could greet the visitor,
Wharton heard his name spoken and, looking up, saw a woman
descending the stairs. It was apparent that when young she had been
beautiful, and, in spite of an expression in her eyes of hardness
and distrust, which seemed habitual, she was still handsome.
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