ice fall to a whisper when "the boss" passed through the store. Jimmy,
when visiting us, always had a group around him. His audacity with women
amazed me, for he never passed one of the "lady clerks" without some
form of caress, which they resented but invariably laughed at. One day
he imparted to me his code of morality: he never made love to another
man's wife, so he assured me, if he knew the man! The secret of life he
had discovered in laughter, and by laughter he sold quantities of Cousin
Robert's groceries.

Mr. Bowles boasted of a catholic acquaintance in all the cities of his
district, but before venturing forth to conquer these he had learned his
own city by heart. My Cousin Robert was not aware of the fact that Mr.
Bowles "showed" the town to certain customers. He even desired to show
it to me, but an epicurean strain in my nature held me back. Johnny
Hedges went with him occasionally, and Henry Schneider, the bill clerk,
and I listened eagerly to their experiences, afterwards confiding them
to Tom....

There were times when, driven by an overwhelming curiosity, I ventured
into certain strange streets, alone, shivering with cold and excitement,
gripped by a fascination I did not comprehend, my eyes now averted, now
irresistibly raised toward the white streaks of light that outlined the
windows of dark houses....

One winter evening as I was going home, I encountered at the mail-box
a young woman who shot at me a queer, twisted smile. I stood still, as
though stunned, looking after her, and when halfway across the slushy
street she turned and smiled again. Prodigiously excited, I followed
her, fearful that I might be seen by someone who knew me, nor was it
until she reached an unfamiliar street that I ventured to overtake her.
She confounded me by facing me.

"Get out!" she cried fiercely.

I halted in my tracks, overwhelmed with shame. But she continued to
regard me by the light of the street lamp.

"You didn't want to be seen with me on Second Street, did you? You're
one of those sneaking swells."

The shock of this sudden onslaught was tremendous. I stood frozen to the
spot, trembling, convicted, for I knew that her accusation was just; I
had wounded her, and I had a desire to make amends.

"I'm sorry," I faltered. "I didn't mean--to offend you. And you
smiled--" I got no farther. She began to laugh, and so loudly that I
glanced anxiously about. I would have fled, but something still held me,
somet