She was a dear, sad memory scarcely
anything more, and it seemed as though to disturb that sadness
were sacrilege
"I shall probably run up against her some day," I said to myself,
dolefully
And an echo seemed to add, "You are all alone in the world!"
CHAPTER II I WAS a lonely man. I was pulsating with activity
and with a sense of triumph. I was receiving multitudes of new
impressions and enjoying life in a multitude of ways, with no
dearth of woman and song in the program. But at the bottom of
my consciousness I was always lonely
There were moments when my desolation would assert itself rather
violently.
This happened nearly every time I returned to New York from the
road. As the train entered the great city my sense of home-coming
would emphasize a feeling that the furnished two-room apartment
on Lexington Avenue which was waiting to receive me was not a
home
Meyer Nodelman, whom I often met in a Broadway restaurant at
the lunch hour these days, would chaff or lecture me earnestly
upon my unmarried state
"You don't know who you're working for," he would say, his sad,
Oriental face taking on an affectionate expression.
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