The Widow's Clock by Bernard Capes — Read

I was moved to pause outside the premises of Bull Hacker, auctioneers. Unaccountable excitement exhaled from their very windows, grew intricate on their steps, congested at their doorway. Something out of the common, it was evident, was passing within.

I accosted a young man who was battling his way forth at the moment. The young man's face was a red mask of hilarity.