"Any good?"
"Hot much; one pretty girl. Where have you been?"
"West Side; Brainard's."
"Anybody there?"
"The old people. And some friends—Valentines."
"Valentine? I used to know a Valentine—nice, quiet fellow, light complexion. His name was Alpheus—no, Adrian."
"That's the one."
"Poor fellow! he deserved a better fate."
"What's the matter with him?"
"His wife owns him."