* * * * *
Down in the room over the tin and plumbing shop in which I lived, I
found it cold indeed. I could afford no heat ... and, believing in
windows open, knew every searching drop in the barometer.
But never in my life was I happier, despite my secretly cherished love
for Vanna. For I assured myself in my heart of certain future fame, the
fame I had dreamed of since childhood. And I wore every hardship as an
adornment, conscious of the greatness of my cause.
Isolation; half-starvation; cold; inadequate clothing;--all counted for
the glory of poetry, as martyrs had accepted persecution and suffering
for the glory of God.
My two hours of daily work irked me. I wanted the time for my writing
and studying ... but I still continued living above the din of the shop
that I had grown accustomed to, by this time.
Rarely, when the nights were so subarctic as to be almost unbearable,
did I slip down through the skylight and seek out the comparative warmth
of the shop ... and there, on the platform where the desk stood so that
it could overlook all the store, I wrote and studied.
But Randall said this worried the night watchman too much, my appearing
and disappearing, all hours of the night. He didn't relish coming every
time to see if the store was being burglarised.
* * * * *
The outside world was beginning to notice me.
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