Their hands were locked together until Madame came out.
The carriage rolled away.
Henry—it seemed to himself—reeled dizzily along Simpson Street to the stairway that you climbed to get to the Gleaner office.
And all along this street of his struggles, his failures, his one or two successes, his dreams, the dingy, two-story buildings laughed and danced and cheered about him, with him, for him—Hemple's meat-market, Berger's grocery, Swanson's, Donovan's, Schultz and Schwartz's barber shop, Stanley's, the Sunbury National Bank, the postoffice—all reeled jubilantly with him in the ecstasy of young love!
IX—WHAT'S MONEY!
1
Henry paused on the sill. The door he held open bore the legend, painted in black and white on a rectangle of tin:—