“The late John Higgins, nevertheless. The demise——”
“And what about it?”
“That he has left you—this paper in my hand being the memorandum—his interest in The Public Square——”
“Me——”
“A half-interest in the ownership, to be exact——”
Pidge glanced around the room. The man was sitting. The first and terrible obstacle of life was to remove him, or escape from him.
“What have I to do?”
“Just sign——”
But he was still sitting, after she had signed. He wanted to be sociable.... She was on the car going home. She hopped off at Eighth Street, and was turned into Harrow, before she realized that she didn’t live there any more but in Gramercy Park.... Curving Harrow Street was quiet and calling. She went in to the curve and stood before the old green front. A sign on the door announced “Rooms, Permanent and Transient.”... “What kind of rooms are transient rooms?” she thought. The curb and doorstep thronged with memories. “Oh, Dicky, it’s too much,” she whispered at last. “Come soon, and prop me up!”