Page:The Trimmed Lamp (1907).djvu/65

 wheels as the third-floor front of the Frogmore flats buzzed its machinery back into the Order of Things. A band slipped, a spring was touched, the gear was adjusted and the wheels revolved in their old orbits.

John Perkins looked at the clock. It was 8.15. He reached for his hat and walked to the door.

“Now, where are you going, I’d like to know, John Perkins?” asked Katy, in a querulous tone.

“Thought I’d drop up to McCloskey’s,” said John, “and play a game or two of pool with the fellows.”