On the far West Side, well beyond the drab iron articulation of the
Ninth Avenue Elevated, in a region of New York whose every aspect was
foreign to Lucinda's eyes, the brougham drew to a shuddering stop, in
thoroughbred aversion to such surroundings, before a row of blank-avised
brick buildings whose facades of varying heights and widths showed them
to have been originally designed for diverse uses. That they were today,
however, united in one service was proved by the legend that linked them
together, letters of black on a broad white band running from end to end
of the row beneath its second-story windows: