It was a painful scene for scientists to figure in or to gaze upon.
Profoundly shocked and upset, I locked up the anthropological department
offices and went out into the Park, where the sun was shining and a
gentle June wind stirred the trees.
Too completely upset to do any more work that day, I wandered about amid
the gaily dressed crowds at hazard; sometimes I contemplated the monkeys;
sometimes gazed sadly upon the seals. They dashed and splashed and raced
round and round their tank, or crawled up on the rocks, craned their wet,
sleek necks, and barked--houp! houp! houp!
For luncheon I went over to the Rolling Stone Restaurant. There was a
very pretty girl there--an unusually pretty girl--or perhaps it was one
of those days on which every girl looked unusually pretty to me. There
are such days.
Her voice was exquisite when she spoke. She said:
"We have, today, corned beef hash, fried ham and eggs, liver and
bacon--" but let that pass, too.
I took my tea very weak; by that time I learned that her name was Mildred
Case; that she had been a private detective employed in a department
store, and that her duties had been to nab wealthy ladies who forgot to
pay for objects usually discovered in their reticules, bosoms, and
sometimes in their stockings.
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