THE TRIMMED LAMP
satins wiped a red drop or two from Raggles’s brow with a fragrant cobweb.
“Me?” said Raggles, with a seraphic smile, “I feel fine.”
He had found the heart of his new city.
In three days they let him leave his cot for the convalescent ward in the hospital. He had been in there an hour when the attendants hear sounds of conflict. Upon investigation they found that Raggles had assaulted and damaged a brother convalescent—a glowering transient whom a freight train collision had sent in to be patched up.
“What’s all this about?” inquired the head nurse.
“He was runnin’ down me town,” said Raggles.
“What town?” asked the nurse.
“Noo York,” said Raggles.
[110]
