ears, because, you know, where we had lived—where I was in the habit of waking up—the streets were very quiet. Then, besides, it seemed so strange, and somehow so terrible, too, that the city should be just the same as ever,—that people should come and go about their business just the same as ever, — and yet that everything I cared for should have changed so much. It made me realize how indifferent the world is to us, how little it matters to the world what we do or suffer. I heard the great, loud laugh of a man, down on the sidewalk. It seemed very strange to me that any one should have the heart to laugh.
Well, I lay there in this way for—it must have been hours after my waking up. Then, at last, without knowing why, I got out of bed. I had no purpose in getting up. Only, I was tired of lying there and thinking, and so I got up for the sake of change. As I was dressing, I asked myself, "How much did I tell Merotti last night?" I could not remember very clearly; but I hoped, and half remembered, that I had not told him anything. I asked myself, too, "Now where shall I go? What shall I do?" I had no money. But I said to myself, "I will borrow a little money from Merotti, and hire a room to sleep in, and then What did Eugene say I should be doing now, but for him? I'll do that. I'll buy a few flowers, and earn my living in the old way."
After I was dressed, I went down-stairs and into the public room. The room was empty. The clock was striking twelve o'clock,—noon. I could see Merotti, through the folding-doors, far back in the kitchen. When he saw me, he came forward.
"Well," he said, with his good-natured smile, "you are better, eh?"
"Yes," I said, "better."
"You were half frozen when you came here last night," said he.
"Yes, I was very cold."
"Where did you come from?"
"From far up town."
"We haven't seen you for an age. What are you doing nowadays? Still selling flowers?"
"Yes,—still selling flowers," I said. That was not true—yet. But it would be true very soon.
"Not married yet, I suppose?"
Then he did not know of my marriage! "No," I said, "not married." This was true. I was not married any longer. It was the same as if I had not been married.
"And that friend of yours—Mr.—what's his name?—Leffingwell,—have you seen him lately?" asked Merotti.
