A friendly truck driver, feeding his horses, saw my bewilderment, and laughed.
A GREENWICH STUDIO. Choosing models.
"That's Macdougal's Alley," he volunteered.
That meant nothing to me then.
"What is it?" I demanded, devoured by curiosity; "the stage door of a theatre,—or what?"
He laughed again.
"It is just Macdougal's Alley!" he repeated, as though that explained everything.