basement window fortunately looked toward
the south, and the pale April sunshine was
beginning to make itself felt, so that the tem-
perature of the room was not unbearable. But
Tig languished; sank, sank, day by day, and
was kept alive only by the conviction that the
letter announcing the award of the thousand-
dollar prize would presently come to him.
One night he reached a place, where, for
hunger and dejection, his mind wandered,
and he seemed to be complaining all night
to Nora of his woes. When the chill dawn
came, with chittering of little birds on the
dirty pavement, and an agitation of the
scrawny willow "pussies," he was not able
to lift his hand to his head. The window
before his sight was but "a glimmering
square." He said to himself that the end
must be at hand. Yet it was cruel, cruel,
with fame and fortune so near! If only he
had some food, he might summon strength to
rally -- just for a little while! Impossible that
he should die! And yet without food there
was no choice.

Dreaming so of Nora's dinners, thinking
how one spoonful of a stew such as she often
compounded would now be his salvation, he
became conscious of the presence of a strong
perfume in the room. It was so familiar that