Explore "Ambrose Lavendale, Diplomat" by E. Phillips Oppenheim on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Lavendale drew a deep sigh of content as he withdrew his eyes reluctantly from the glittering phantasmagoria of the city, stretching away below like a fire-spangled carpet. He leaned back in his chair and raised his glass to his lips.
'No doubt about my being an American born, Moreton,' he observed. 'The first night in New York is always a real home-coming to me. And this is New York, isn't it? ' he went on, musingly, 'city of steel and iron, typical, indescribable.'