the munificent sum of thirty-five hundred dollars a year, 
and he decided, as he told his 
 joyously the night he 
heard it, that he, or they, rather, would now move from 
Number 21 Buttonwood Street to Number 124 New 
Market, where there was a nice brick house of three stones 
in height, as opposed to the one of two stories which they 
now occupied. Buttonwood Street, at the point which 
they were now located, was rapidly being surrounded by 
business conditions which were unbearable; and New 
Market at the point he had picked on was removed, at 
least a score of blocks, from the region which was once 
so nice but was now becoming so sorrowfully defiled. 
There was the probability that some day they would come 
into something even much better than this, but for the 
present this was sufficient. He was exceedingly grateful. 
Mr. Henry Worthington Cowperwood was at this 
time a significant figure—tall, lean, inquisitorial, clerkly, 
the pink of perfection in the niceties of commercial con- 
duct, absolutely practical — a man who believed only 
what he saw, was not at all disturbed about those silly 
fancies which might trouble the less rational brains of 
this world, and content to be what he was—a banker, 
or prospective one. He looked upon life as a business 
situation or deal, with everybody born as more or less 
capable machines to take a part in it. It was surprising 
to him to see how many incapable or unsatisfactory 
machines there were; but, thank heaven, now that he 
was getting along fairly well, this was no affair of his. 
At first, when he was much younger—he was now thirty- 
six—life had seemed just a little unsatisfactorily organized. 
But now—well now it didn't look so bad. He had nice, 
smooth, closely cropped side-whiskers coming to almost 
the lower lobe of his ears, and his upper lip was smooth 
and curiously long. He had a straight nose of a some- 
what longish length and a chin that tended to be pointed. 
His manner might have been called severe, though really 
it was more of a cultivated manner than anything else.