When Jan had folded the letter up and started to walk once more his eyes
suddenly lighted up. He turned and started to run and as he ran he cried:
"Paula, Paula!" Some of the crowd moving on paused and looked at a stocky
man with a heavy mustache running across the street and shouting a woman's
name.
The cabs were thick at the moment and it was hard running across. But Jan
kept on, his overcoat flapping behind him and his short legs jumping up
and down as he moved. A young woman with a cheap fur around her neck had
stopped. There were others who paused to watch Jan. But this young woman
was one of the few who didn't smile.
She waited as if puzzled for a moment and then started to lose herself in
the crowd. She walked swiftly ahead, her eyes anxiously on the corner. And
in the meantime Jan came galumphing toward the curbing still crying:
"Paula, Paula!" At the curbing, however, Jan came to a full stop. His toe
had caught the cement and he shot forward, landing on his hands and chin.
A crowd gathered around Jan and some one helped him to his feet. His chin
was bleeding and his hands were scraped from hitting the cold pavement. He
made no sign, however, of injury, but stood blinking in the direction the
young woman with the cheap fur had gone.
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