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Updated: May 28, 2025
The Colonel remained engrossed in his paper. Mrs. Devine sat with her plump white hands folded on her lap, whether asleep or not it was impossible to say. The lady who was cousin to a baronet had shifted her chair beneath the gasolier, her eyes bent on her everlasting crochet work.
There, on a gilded stand, under a brilliant gasolier, lay a large and handsome volume, which Salome indicated as the one referred to by her father. The marquis brought two chairs to the stand, and they sat down to go over the book. Meanwhile, the banker and the dowager commenced their game of chess. But from time to time, each looked furtively in the direction of the young people.
The gasolier trembled, the floor throbbed, the little goblin dwelling pulsated as if it were alarmed. Only the continued calm of Mrs. Melville at her knitting and the coarse threads of music running through the sound persuaded him that this riot was the result of some genial human activity. "Oh, I suppose you notice it, being a stranger," said Mrs. Melville. "We hardly hear it now.
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