He sat in his usual armchair at the club, reading the paper in the dim light that managed to squeak through the curtained window. His skin was like the paper within the row upon row of books that rose to the lofty ceiling. Thick carpeting drowned out every sound. A staff member stood unobtrusively close by, ready to serve him at the merest gesture.
In the basement kitchen, hearth fires burned and babies gurgled with delight. Vivacious girls, faces covered in freckles, played with the tots and sang songs while cooks prepared supper for club members. Their faces shone gaily.
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