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OT long did Angela Bish remain in her mackintoshes. She had tasted Romance à la subway.

For two days, now, she had winked, in the 199th Street Station, at a melancholy man  in a slimy overcoat whose beard was full of  big white blobs. He had smiled at her, she fancied; although, between you and me and  the chewing-gum distributing machine, the  red paint of which was being hungrily licked  off by a half-starved tot, it may have been  that misery, alas, too often draws only a  smile from the thoughtless.

Be that as it may, let us return to life as it is lived north of 11th Street.

Angie lived on the memory of that smile all day; and at night she warmed it over  for supper. Already life had changed for Angie; and, inversely, Angie had changed  for life.

The third day, greatly daring, she returned his grin in even better condition than she had found it. 46