I guess we've come on a wild-goose chase, Ronicky, hunting for a girl named Smith that lives on the bank of the East River!" He laughed bitterly.
"How come you know so much about New York ?" asked Ronicky, eager to turn the subject of conversation until he could think of something to cheer his friend.
"Books," said Bill Gregg.
After that there was a long lull in the conversation.

That night neither of them slept long, for every rattle and sway of the train was telling them that they were rocking along toward an impossible task.
Even the cheer of Ronicky had broken down the next morning, and, though breakfast in the diner restored some of his confidence, he was not the man of the day before.
"Bill," he confided, on the way back to their seats from the diner, "there must be something wrong with me.

What is it ?" "I dunno," said Bill.

"Why ?" "People been looking at me." "Ain't they got a right to do that ?" "Sure they have, in a way.

But, when they don't seem to see you when you see them, and when they begin looking at you out of the corner of their eyes the minute you turn away, why then it seems to me that they're laughing at you, Bill." "What they got to laugh about?
I'd punch a gent in the face that laughed at me!" But Ronicky fell into a philosophical brooding.