Peewee was inordinately wise for his age, though more wise in evil than in good, but he had never tried to find out the nature of his feel ings towards these women. Something mostly pleasant, but partly painful, was stirred in him by them. He took pride in the methods he had acquired of attracting their attention. When, however, he had accomplished this, another feel in'g not capable of analysis succeeded; an internal warning told him that it might bring tears. He could not remember ever having cried; he shrank from tears and ridiculed them, as he did all soft things. He put his dirty hand surreptitiously against the women's furs and breathed deeply in their scents. When they had passed on, leaving the probability that he would never see them again, a momentary feeling Of loss and loneliness came to him; then he turned his attention again to the street, where something interesting was always happening.

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