THE LONELY MAN

New Zealand Times, Volume LII, Issue 12181, 4 July 1925, Page 15

THE LONELY MAN

(By

His Typist.

The Lonely Man sat in his sumptuous office and wondered if anything were worth while. With a weary gesture he reached for one of his expensive cigars, donned hat and overcoat, and hailed a taxi. He had a luncheon appointment with the Big Man who was making use of him—of his fresh and vigorous genius—in the promotion of an important enterprise. “Sickening,” murmured the Lonely Man under his breath. “Always spending a small fortune to get in with the

right people; always trying to reach up to where I don’t belong. I’m like a rotten tree, with no roots anywhere. All this pretence . . .’’ In the vestibule of an expensive hotel the Big Man was tapping the floor impatiently and frowning upon the world in general. “Awful bore this!’’ Why the dickens couldn’t the fellow have suggested a chop in a grill-room? One wants to talk affairs, not wade through a long luncheon, with little or nothing settled at the end, Queer eggs, these parvenu pretenders. They don’t belong anywhere. Pity! He’d be quite a likeable chap if he let himself be natural, He could afford to. He’s indispensable enough in his own sphere, But as it is he’s impossible, No roots in any sort of soil, All this pretence." . For Sale: One halter, one collar, and a good mare thrown in.