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Gwynne steered the launch, and his conversation and Isabel's drifted to speculations as to what had happened in the city. "Thank heaven I had the foundations of that old house replaced," she said, "or I am afraid your mother would have shot right down to the Hofers' doorstep.

A large touring car was standing in front of the Hofers' door. The children and their nurses were in it, and Mr. Toole came out and took his place as Isabel reached the house. He greeted her for the first time since she had known him without a smile; and he looked very old and sad. Isabel heard Mrs. Hofer's light high rapid voice within.

Gwynne and Isabel pressed back against the wall of a shop and watched and waited. They were to celebrate the birth of the New Year with the Hofers at a restaurant on the block above, but there was no prospect of reaching it at present. The sky was cloudless. If the evening chill had come in from the Pacific, it was routed by the mass of humanity and the downpour of heat from the electric lights.

I have wondered if the risk would be worth while. The amusement to be derived from provincial society is very doubtful." "Provincial! What arrogance! Do please call on the Hofers. They have the old Polk house, whose history I have told you, and entertain like princes. Besides, Mr. Hofer is one of that small millionaire group that is trying to clean up San Francisco municipally.

We have never exchanged ten sentences, but perhaps we act as a mutual stimulus." "Don't you love California the least little bit?" asked Isabel, wistfully. "Or San Francisco?" "I have liked San Francisco too well upon several occasions when I have run down to spend the night at the Hofers or have fallen in with Stone on my way back from Berkeley, and been induced to stay over.

The Hofers' door, like the rest, was open, and they saw that the spiral marble stair was a pile of glittering splinters and that the pictures had been turned completely round or flung across the hall. Mrs. Hofer had been too eager to reign on Nob Hill to wait for a new foundation.

I don't wonder you came a cropper. I hope the Hofers won't mind " "Nobody minds anything." She took his arm and they walked up the street. The bells were still ringing, horns tooting, but the street was comparatively empty. At the corner a Salvation Army corps was singing hymns to a flabby and penitent congregation.

"That that " stammered Alexina, "is Mr. Dwight. I met him last night at the Hofers'." The young man raised his hat and came forward quickly. "I hope you will forgive me," he said with a charming deference, "but I couldn't resist coming to see if you were all right. So many people are frightened of fire in their own houses." "Mr. Dwight my mother " He lifted his hat again. Mrs.

It was a very orderly throng, for it was composed of the respectable element of the city, and if they had laid dignity aside for the moment, they were not distractingly noisy. All were throwing confetti, and many had tin horns. Isabel saw the Hofers, arm in arm, tooting vigorously.

The Ferdinand Thorntons, Trennahans, Hofers and others who had lost their city homes on Nob Hill had not rebuilt, but lived the year round in their country houses at Burlingame, San Mateo, Alta, Menlo Park, Atherton, or "across the Bay," using the hotels when they came to town for dances, but motoring home after the theater.