But if I could do anything for you, I'd be
glad to."
Mr. Neal saw that the old gentleman thought he was dealing with a
demented man; he saw, too, that the denial was an honest one.
"Thank you," said Mr. Neal. "No. I must be going. I am very sorry I
troubled you."
The old man bade him a cheery good-night, but he looked after Mr. Neal
in solicitude as the clerk went slowly down the steps.
The air was bitter cold outside, and Mr. Neal realized for the first
time that he did not have his overcoat. He shivered.
Hunching his shoulders up against the blast, he hurried back to the
subway.
Heartbreaking though his disappointment was, Mr. Neal was not
embittered. There was one thing that he knew now beyond all cavil or
doubt: he knew that he should find the man with the good face. He knew
that he should eventually meet him somewhere, sometime, and come to know
him. How Mr. Neal longed for that time words cannot describe, but his
settled faith that his desire would one day be fulfilled kept him
tranquil and happy. Why should he be impatient? Perhaps today, or
tomorrow--perhaps in this car he was entering, perhaps just around the
next corner--he would see the face.
"It will be soon," he would say to himself. "I know it will be soon."
The beggars in front of the Imperial building came to know the little
clerk and thank him in advance for his alms.
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