I worked
sixteen hours a day. Reading and studying had to be suspcnded till
October. I lived on five dollars a week. My savings, and with them
my sense of my own importance in the world, grew apace. As
there was no time to go to the savings-bank, I had to carry what I
deemed a great sum on my person (in a money-belt that I had
improvised for the purpose). This was a constant source of anxiety
as well as of joy. No matter how absorbed I might have been in
my work or in thought, the consciousness of having that wad of
paper money with me was never wholly absent from my mind. It
loomed as a badge of omnipotence. I felt in the presence of Luck,
which was a living spirit, a goddess. I was mostly grave. The
frivolities of the other men in the factory seemed so fatuous, so
revolting. A great sense of security and self-confidence swelled
my heart. When I walked through the American streets I would
feel at home in them, far more so than I had ever felt before. At
the same time danger was constantly hovering about me-the
danger of the street crowds seizing that magic wad from me.
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