“Keep your hands off the lever,” snapped the elevator boy.

“I beg your pardon,” said Mr. McKee with dignity, “I didn’t know I was touching it.”

“All right,” I agreed, “I’ll be glad to.”

… I was standing beside his bed and he was sitting up between the sheets, clad in his underwear, with a great portfolio in his hands.

“Beauty and the Beast⁠ ⁠… Loneliness⁠ ⁠… Old Grocery Horse⁠ ⁠… Brook’n Bridge⁠ ⁠…”

Then I was lying half asleep in the cold lower level of the Pennsylvania Station, staring at the morning Tribune , and waiting for the four o’clock train.