“Thank you—for coming,” he said. . The commissionaire stood there, tall and imperturbable. ’ ‘Damnation!’ ‘What the devil ails you?’ demanded his friend, striding forward. He returned, blue towel in hand. Of his own certain knowledge he could tell them that. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. He could lose himself for hours at a time. The poor boy, wanting his empty coat! The incident, however, caused her to review the recent events. “I’ve been looking out for you,” he said. And at length her penultimate day in Morningside Park dawned for her. ‘Lord, no! I’ve a better regard for my skin, I thank you. "Otherwise you will not get your morning's sleep.
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