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The confrontation was apparently my last gasp, because I barely made it home; where I collapsed with no decorum at all, half in, half out of my bed.

It occurs to me, I haven't said anything about where I lived; that's partly accidental, and partially because there isn't much to say about it. My flat, such as it was, was nothing to write home about. I didn't even have the dignity of a whole floor to myself. I had two rooms, a sitting room with a small iron bodied stove ; that room doubled as a kitchen, such as it was, a long counter to one side, a cabinet and small ice box and a basin for washing dishes- the other room held a clothes press, a small trunk and my bed; but only barely. I shared a bathroom with three other apartments on the floor; but considering the area, the indoor lavatory was a luxury. Since I knew at least one of the other apartments on the floor was shared by no less than four chorus girls, I felt well satisfied with it; though when I had moved in, I had fantasied about letting the ground floor apartment that took up the entire floor; but it's vacancy had never coincided with my having the money to do it; and I certainly didn't have enough to look for other lodgings elsewhere. But that was my castle; my home, and since it was an upgrade from the one room that I had rented first, I was inclined to be fond of it.