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 noon. Jerry used to glance over the arrivals in our line.

I felt lonely as Crusoe that day, particularly when dinner time approached. I imagined I'd make myself better by drifting over to dine with some friends I'd met on Fifth. There was a daughter, there, about Doris's age and size; a popular girl,—a deb of a couple of years' standing. Sitting and smoking, I mean, rather.

I bored the poor dear. I always had, so why not now? She never flicked a stir in me. Not that she tried; she didn't. That was it. "Well, old Steve, we'll struggle through with the meal somehow!" Such was the sensation underlying the ennui; so, naturally, she made it mutual with me.

Thank God, she didn't try to mix salad dressing at the table; so I kept my memory clear.

That night, when I returned to the hotel, I had a wire filed at Buffalo; three words, no signature: "Seediness yonder thus."

You may suppose I had my Webster handy, and, counting my words up and down, made out "See you Thursday."

That was to-morrow; so I had to figure out, during the night, what I was to say. You see,