Earles declared. “John! Welcome! Happy Thanksgiving!” Cathy cried, ushering him deeper into the house. All the furniture was moved, all the meals were disarranged, and everybody, Ann Veronica included, appeared in new, bright costumes. In each corner stood a stout square post reaching to the ceiling. Stanley, standing up with a sudden geniality and rubbing his hands together. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. It is no good. He walked out into the Champs Elysées and sat down.
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