CHAPTER IX.
THE ADVENTURE OF THE MOZAMBIQUE MONKEYS
NOBODY loves me!” How many a maid has wailed the words, or vainly tried to scratch them on the window pane with her $4.50 rhinestone ring.
“Nobody loves me!” The saddest exclamation in any language including the Scandinavian, excepting “Please Remit!”
“Nobody loves me!” So wept Angela Bish, and it was true. Nobody but the flies, the mosquitoes. For the heat was hot on Avenue B; and her bedroom seemed more full of bed than usual—bed and hairpins. And on the wall paper the eczema seemed to be getting worse. About the bureau it was quite, quite bald.
Lonely? Angie yearned and yawned for male society with the ravenous appetite of a man-eating shark. But men were shy of Angie; very shy, for men. They got rid of her quickly, as if she were a lead quarter.
Yes, Angie was full of lonelitude. What
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