There were tramps ... and the
stray criminal negro from the Bottoms ... God knows what else, in her
path!
But my timidity let her pass on alone.
I needed the coolness of the water about me, as I swam out to my tent. I
forgot my clothes on my head and they soused in the water as I swam. All
night I tossed, sleepless. I lay delirious with remembrance of her ...
imagined myself with her as I lay there, and whispered terms of love and
endearment into the dark.
Who was she? One thing I knew--she must be a student, and an art
student under Professor Grant in the Fine Arts Department.
This was the incident that decided me to enroll again as regular
student, and to fold my tent, leave my solitary island, and return to
town ... where I sought out Frank Randall, and he again offered me the
room I had given up. And he gave me work as his bookkeeper, several
hours of the day ... which work I undertook to perform in return for my
room. In addition he gave me two dollars a week extra.
* * * * *
One afternoon soon after my enrollment, I met Ally Merton coming down
hill.
"Well, here I am, as I said I'd be," said he.
He was, as usual, dressed to perfection--not a minute ahead of the
style, not a minute behind ... gentle-voiced and deferential, learning
to be everywhere without being noticed anywhere.
"I see you're still eccentric in dress .
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