“My golly!” he cried, “where do you live? I can’t keep walking forever.”
“Your endurance is all mental, eh?” returned Dick sharply. “Well, I live right here.”
He turned in at the apartment-house on Forty-ninth Street, and a few minutes later they were in a large new room with an open fireplace and four walls lined with books. A colored butler served them gin rickeys, and an hour vanished politely with the mellow shortening of their drinks and the glow of a light mid-autumn fire.

The Beautiful and Damned