There was an
abundance of side-splitting comedy in the things I saw about me,
but there was no dearth of pathos, either. One day, as I entered a
certain high-class restaurant on Broadway, I saw at one of the
tables a man who looked strikingly familiar to me, but whom I was
at first unable to locate. Presently I recognized him. Three or four
years before he had peddled apples among the employees of my
cloak-shop. He had then been literally in tatters. That was why I
was now slow to connect his former image with his present
surroundings. I had heard of his windfall. He had had a job as
watchman at houses in process of construction. While there he had
noticed things, overheard conversations, put two and two together,
and finally made fifty thousand dollars in a few months as a
real-estate broker
We were furtively eying each other. Finally our eyes met. He
greeted me with a respectful nod and then his face broke into a
good-humored smile. He moved over to my table and told me his
story in detail. He spoke in brief, pithy sentences, revealing a
remarkable understanding of the world.
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