Harold MacGrath,
Deuces Wild — I. The Woman Across the Street
(1913)
“ When Forbes dropped a pencil these days, he reached for a fresh one, having recognized the futility of crawling on his hands and knees over rugs in search of something which had ceased to exist. Every day now for a week, between three and four in the afternoon, she had gone by, slim, trig, supple. She looked like Somebody; she must be Somebody, for nobody but Somebody could have carried her head the way she did. Where her journey began, where it ended, he had never bothered himself to inquire. It satisfied his needs to expect her at such a time each day and to realize his expectations. ”
