late-staying

Updated: May 8, 2025

Glancing down the quiet stretches of the office, to the windows looking to westward, she saw that the sky was a delicate primrose. In a loft-building rearing out of the low structures between her and the North River, lights were springing out, and she who ought to have known that they marked weary, late-staying people like herself, fancied that they were the lights of restaurants for gay lovers.

Sinclair Lewis - The Job: An American Novel