Then I came on down here. I thought
maybe if I got some good rooms to live in where people could be
comfortable, I could get somebody to come in and sit down. So I bought
this lot of truck of an Italian named Almadi--a prince or something--and
moved in. I tried the fellows who lived here--you saw them sticking
their heads out as we came up--but they don't speak English, so I was as
bad off as I was before. Then I made up my mind I'd tackle you and keep
at it till I got to know you. You might think it queer now that I didn't
tell you before who I was or how I came here, or how lonesome I
was--just lonesome--but I just couldn't. I didn't want your pity, I
wanted your _friendship_. That's all.'
"He had straightened up now, and was leaning back in his chair.
"'And it was just dead lonesomeness, then, was it?' and I held out my
hand to him.
"'Yes--the deadliest kind of lonesome. Kind makes you want to fall off a
dock. Now, please drink my wine'--and he pushed the bottle toward me--'I
had a devil of a hunt for it, but I wanted to do something for you you
couldn't do for yourself.
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