Excerpt from World's End Owen Randolph and his nephew, Richard Bryee, came out of the Ritz-Carlton together and got into Randolph's motor-car. It was January. Through scudding drift stole a small, sad, tarnished, wondering moon, ineffectual against the insolent, lilac-white glare of the arc-lamps. The car crossed Fifty-ninth Street, and the brazen horse of the Sherman Statue, with its angel groom, seemed to leap at them. A few moments more brought them to the door of the house on Fifth Avenue, where, after some tableaux, Auguste was to dance that night. A footman in powder and knee-breeehes sauntered up and helped them off with their overeoats in the semi-professional, semi-negligent manner of one rehearsing a domestic's part in private theatricals. As they entered the ballroom the curtains were about to he drawn aside from a small stage. In the dull light they could see the blonde blur of women's arms and shoulders among the dark mass of the men's black-coated backs, and an occasional gleam from one of the gilded chairs. The atmosphere seemed close and murky after the thin rigour of the outside air. Richard slipped into an empty chair, but Randolph remained standing. He was such a big man that to fold himself up in a small space for any length of time caused him acute discomfort. A youth who was on the stage before the curtains w made some witty remarks, well peppered with indiscreet personalities, at which there was a little flurry of appreciative Laughter. The tableau that followed was startling. In front of a large cage sat a lovely girl in Oriental costume. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art techlogy to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.