d away with little Paul
to keep her engagement. When I awoke, I reproached myself for having
failed to be on hand to speed her on her journey and wish her good
luck. She had gone out all alone with her child to confront the problem
of keeping body and soul together, poor girl.

Early in the afternoon I had to go over to Brooklyn and view the Erie
Basin, because my story unfortunately required the blind man to fall
into it and be saved by the main girl, and I pride myself upon some
accuracy of description. The result, if I remember correctly, was
condensed into a score of lines which, if I got two cents a word for
them, would leave a slight profit after paying carfare and increasing
the small sum of my knowledge. Also, I had become acquainted with a
gentleman on a canal boat, who grew geraniums and bachelor's buttons in
a box on deck. He showed me his pleasant cabin and introduced me to his
wife. The man was leading a peaceful life of leisurely travel, one that
offered many possibilities. I imagined myself drifting along the
tranquil borders of canals, edged with lush grasses and silvery willows.
It was ideal! What more could a man require for happiness?

When I returned, I was very anxious to interview Frances and ask about
her experiences with her first day's posing, but her door was closed.

No longer was she a sick woman, one whose bed was the clothing of
illness, the garment of pain. She had entirely recovered and, since I
could bring no solace of her troubles, I no longer had the right to
intrude upon her, even by knocking at her door. Normal life had claimed
her again, pitiless for her infirmities of voice and heart. She was
working now to earn the bread that would permit her to live for her
child. Her existence was her own, and the freedom of her privacy. All
that I could do now was to hope that, if she chanced to need any aid,
she would recognize some little claim upon her friendship by coming to
me again, as a bee may return for honey, leaving behind some of the
pollen that means life prolonged and other flowers to come. To me such
fertilizing dust would be replaced by a new interest given a life that
was sometimes dull, by an occasionally tired brain made younger and
mayhaps stronger through contact with a fresh young creature. All this
she could proffer, but I had no right to beg for it. 'Twould have been
like asking for a return of the few half-faded roses I had brought her,
or payment for the running of a