"
"Why--uh--yes, I guess I would like to."
"Come with me, child," she said, in pretended severity. "Tom,
you take my hand in the game, and don't let me hear you've been
bidding ten on no suit without the joker." She led Mr. Wrenn to
the settee hat-rack in the hall. "The third-floor-back will be
vacant in two weeks, Mr. Wrenn. We can go up and look at it now
if you'd like to. The man who has it now works nights--he's
some kind of a head waiter at Rector's, or something like that,
and he's out till three or four. Come."
When he saw that third-floor-back, the room that the smart
people at Mrs. Arty's were really willing to let him have, he
felt like a man just engaged. It was all in soft
green--grass-green matting, pale-green walls, chairs of white
wicker with green cushions; the bed, a couch with a denim cover
and four sofa pillows. It gave him the impression of being a
guest on Fifth Avenue.
"It's kind of a plain room," Mrs. Arty said, doubtfully. "The
furniture is kind of plain. But my head-waiter man--it was
furnished for a friend of his--he says he likes it better than
any other room in the house.
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