Part of his head was swathed in linen bandages. “Number 13, please, cabman. "Why you pretended not to recognize the photograph of the young fellow you toted around these diggings all day yesterday. She pocketed the sum total of his ready cash, about fortyeight dollars. He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness. “For your own sake, let me beg of you not to stay for a moment. Life is a patchwork of impressions, of vanishing personalities. Some of your sex, I mean.
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