pudent of him to accuse the city of being mad, for he
himself, in his glee over freedom regained, was not conspicuously sane.
He scoured the town in high spirits, peering into shop-windows, riding
on top of busses, going to the Zoo, taking the rickety old steamer to
the Statue of Liberty, drinking afternoon tea at the Ritz, and all that
sort of thing. The first three nights in town he slept in one of the
little traffic-towers that perch on stilts up above Fifth Avenue. As
a matter of fact, it was that one near St. Patrick's Cathedral. He had
ridden up the Avenue in a taxi, intending to go to the Plaza (just for
a bit of splurge after his domestic confinement). As the cab went by, he
saw the traffic-tower, dark and empty, and thought what a pleasant place
to sleep. So he asked the driver to let him out at the Cathedral, and
after being sure that he was not observed, walked back to the little
turret, climbed up the ladder, and made himself at home. He liked it
so well that he returned there the two following nights; but he didn't
sleep much, for he could not resist the fun of startling night-hawk
taxis by suddenly flashing the red, green, and yellow lights at them,
and seeing them stop in bewilderment. But after three nights he
thought it best to leave. It would have been awkward if the police had
discovered him.

It was time to settle down and begin work. He had an uncle who was head
of an important business far down-town; but Gissing, with the quixotry
of youth, was determined to make his own start in the great world of
commerce. He found a room on the top floor of a quiet brownstone house
in the West Seventies. It was not large, and he had to go down a flight
for his bath; the gas burner over the bed whistled; the dust was rather
startling after the clean country; but it was cheap, and his sense of
adventure more than compensated. Mrs. Purp, the landlady, pleased him
greatly. She was very maternal, and urged him not to bolt his meals in
armchair lunches. She put an ashtray in his room.

Gissing sent Mrs. Spaniel a postcard with a picture of the Pennsylvania
Station. On it he wrote Arrived safely. Hard at work. Love to the
children. Then he went to look for a job.

His ideas about business were very vague. All he knew was that he wished
to be very wealthy and influential as soon as possible. He could have
had much sound advice from his uncle, who was a member of the Union
Kennel and quite a prominent dog-about-town. B