Van Zorn by Edwin Arlington Robinson — Read

FARNHAM'S studio, a little after ten in the evening. When the curtain rises the room is dark, save for the light of the fire which is now burning in the grate.

FARNHAM is lying stretched on the window seat. Presently he gets up rather lazily, turns on the light, looks at his watch and stands in the middle of the room with his hands thrust deep into the pockets of a black velvet house coat. Apart from this coat he is in evening dress. He moves about aimlessly, yawns, and takes a cigar from the box on the table.