His face showed a jaded look.

Night revelry, rather than care or years, had wrinkled it; but his bow was high-bred.
"Madame,"-- in an undertone.
"Monsieur, it is M.Grandissime whom I wish to see," she said in French.
But the young man responded in English.
"You har one tenant, ent it ?" "Yes, seh." "Zen eet ees M.De Brahmin zat you 'ave to see." "No, seh; M.Grandissime." "M.

Grandissime nevva see one tenant." "I muz see M.Grandissime." Aurora lifted her veil and laid it up on her bonnet.
The clerk immediately crossed the floor to the distant desk.

The quill of the sore-eyed man scratched louder--scratch, scratch--as though it were trying to scratch under the door of Number 19 rue Bienville--for a moment, and then ceased.

The clerk, with one hand behind him and one touching the desk, murmured a few words, to which the other, after glancing under his arm at Aurora, gave a short, low reply and resumed his pen.