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Excerpt from American Push
All day the wind had stung as it blew beneath a sky of slate. Even Gramercy Park looked bleak and cheerless while a brougham of elegant trim, with two liveried men on its box, rattled up to the door of a mansion just south of Irving Place. The inmate, a young man, wrapped to his ears in a huge coat lined with sable, remained inside his carriage until the footman's bell-ring had been answered. Then he lightly bounded forth upon the pavement, and ran up the stoop into the open doorway, which was immediately closed behind him by another footman inside the hall.
"Is everything ready, Jameson?"
"Yes, sir," replied the man, as his young master slipped out of the coat and let its big, sumptuous bulk drop into this third servant's waiting arms. A large mirror gleamed opposite the form which had thus lightly unsheathed itself, and its possessor, Alonzo Lispenard, gave a saucy stare at his own presentment. He saw a man in the later twenties, of excellent height and build, though of meager personal beauty.
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