The Manhattaners: A Story of the Hour

Gertrude Van Vleck and John Fenton had retired to a remote corner of Mrs. Percy-Bartlett’s drawing-room, and were keeping up as animated a conversation as the depressing influen...

“I fear,” remarked Mrs. Percy-Bartlett, looking at Richard Stoughton with a pleased expression in her brown eyes, “that you studied the art of flattery at college and have not y...

It was Saturday night at La Ria’s. John Fenton and Richard Stoughton were seated side by side near one end of the room, awaiting with true La Rian patience the coming of the sou...

“I was weighing a sentence just uttered by John Fenton--one of those haunting phrases of his that will not take a back seat when they have once entered the mind.”

John Fenton had once called Mr. Robinson, of the _Trumpet_, an argus-eyed editor. But Fenton did not fully realize how searching and far-reaching was his superior’s gaze. The ma...

Buchanan Budd had been doing a good deal of deep thinking of late--proof positive that the times were out of joint. Budd, of course, was obliged to do more or less thinking in o...

So John Fenton had said to Richard Stoughton, when the latter had made his first effort to perform a miracle and obtain the former’s acceptance in advance of Mrs. Percy-Bartlett...

That John Fenton was in a peculiar frame of mind was sufficiently proved by the fact that Sunday morning had arrived, and he had arisen early,--very early, three hours before no...

So said John Fenton, as he walked restlessly up and down the room, puffing a pipe nervously, his face paler than usual, and a gleam in his eyes that indicated a mind disturbed.

Thus said Mrs. Percy-Bartlett to Richard, as her brown eyes rested questioningly on his pale countenance. When a woman frankly comments on a man’s appearance to his face it is e...

In certain respects Percy-Bartlett was an ideal clubman. He was a member of several exclusive clubs, but he frequented only one. He took more interest in the welfare of this org...

“Yes, Richard,” remarked Fenton, as the two strangely-assorted newspaper men turned into a down-town side-street to take a _table d’hôte_ dinner at a restaurant well known to th...

Mrs. Percy-Bartlett was seated at the piano, idly striking chords that seemed to vibrate with the melancholy of her mood. It was Tuesday evening, and her husband had gone to his...

It was a bright moonlight night as John Fenton strode hurriedly away from the Van Vleck mansion, and bent his steps toward Richard Stoughton’s apartments. Just why, at such an h...

In spite of the storm, a large audience had gathered at the Metropolitan Opera House. The first rendition of Saint-Saëns’s opera, “Sanson et Dalila” had been a magnet to the mul...

It was half an hour after midnight, and two men were standing at the south-west corner of City Hall park, gazing at the statue of Nathan Hale. The taller of the two was a man wh...

“The Percy-Bartletts,” as _Town Tattle_ always called them in the weekly paragraph that it devoted to their doings, were dining alone, “_en tête-à-tête_ and _en famille_,” as th...

Gertrude Van Vleck looked up at her father as he uttered these words, and her face grew a shade paler, while the tears started to her eyes. She was clad in a travelling costume...

Mrs. Percy-Bartlett and Gertrude Van Vleck were seated _en tête-à-tête_ in the drawing-room, talking of a quiet wedding that had taken place recently in the inner circle. This m...

The Percy-Bartletts were dining with Gertrude Van Vleck and her father. Cornelius Van Vleck was a man sixty years of age, whose life had been spent, for the most part, in mainta...

“I am not in the mood for listening to the confessions of a frivolous boy,” remarked John Fenton, looking up from his desk in the city room of the _Trumpet_ at Richard Stoughton...

It was a cold night in early spring. It seemed as if the winter had forgotten something, and had returned to look for it. Its search being futile, it had relieved its feelings b...

“I sent for you to cheer me up, Gertrude, but, really, you’re the most depressing creature I’ve seen in a long time. You’re not like yourself at all. What is the matter?”

“I think, Mr. Budd, that Mr. Fenton can give you the advice and counsel that I have so wofully failed to furnish you,” remarked Gertrude, after her callers were seated. “You see...

So said Richard Stoughton to John Fenton as they sat at dinner in the restaurant of the Astor House, while the wind and the snow played tag up and down Broadway, and men compare...

Gertrude laughed and settled herself comfortably in an easy-chair for a confidential chat with her bosom friend. It was early in the afternoon of a brilliant winter day, and the...