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Updated: May 19, 2025
He leaned closer, and above his tall, narrow collar dull red flowed beneath the sallow, and his long, white teeth and slick-brushed hair shone in the arc-light. "Eh, Queenie?" "I gotta go now, Charley. Hattie's waiting home for me." She attempted to pass him and to slip into the outgoing stream of the store, but with a hesitation that belied her. "I I gotta go, Charley."
After a certain time of which he had no cognizance he found himself under the glaring arc-light that hung over Main Street before the Pelican Hotel, in front of what was known as the ladies' entrance. He slipped in there, avoiding the crowded lobby with its shifting groups and its haze of smoke, plainly to be seen behind the great plates of glass, went upstairs, and gained room Number.
'Good gracious! cried Lady Durwent just as she was about to suggest an exodus to the dining-room, 'I had forgotten all about Elise! She hurriedly rang the bell, which was answered by the butler. 'Send word to Miss Elise that' 'Milady, said the servitor, addressing an arc-light just over the door, 'she is descending the stairs this very minute.
There was an indeterminate moment of silence broken by the slim-skirted silhouette. "Where you goin'?" Straightening, Miss Schump could hear more. "No place. Where you goin'?" "I'm cold." "Buy you a drink?" In the shaft of arc-light Miss Schump could see the little face framed in the wan curls lift and crinkle the nose to smile. "Come on."
She slipped into the flux of the aisle, and the tide swallowed her and carried her out into the bigger tide of the street and the swifter tide of the city a flower on the current, her blush withered under the arc-light substitution for sunlight, the petals of her youth thrown to the muddy corners of the city streets.
Out under the blue glare of the commissary arc-light the body of the negro porter lay as it had fallen. Once, Ford thought he heard groans from the black shadow where the fat cook had disappeared, but he could not be sure.
The theatres were not yet out, but my friend said play was just beginning at the club and would soon be in full swing. I had a keen sense of wickedness as we mounted the steps in the yellow flare of the flaming arc-light on the Broadway corner not far below us.
After a certain time of which he had no cognizance he found himself under the glaring arc-light that hung over Main Street before the Pelican Hotel, in front of what was known as the ladies' entrance. He slipped in there, avoiding the crowded lobby with its shifting groups and its haze of smoke, plainly to be seen behind the great plates of glass, went upstairs, and gained room Number.
He stood back by the gate of the gardens watching the play of the leaf silhouettes on the pavement, quaint patterns of fantastic designs thrown up in high relief by the arc-light above. From the dark foggy throat of St. James's Street came the tinkle of a cycle bell. On so still a night the noise seemed bizarre and out of place.
At this intense moment, when even the men looked pallid in the arc-light, Dwight suddenly pointed down the saloon, and broke into a hysterical giggle that seemed almost blasphemous at such a time. The next to catch it up was Hope, and in an instant the gale of laughter within almost equalled the gale of wind without. For, running nimbly down the long room, came a tiny figure.
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