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I Am Held Up on Broadway.
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violent blows, I rode several miles in the same car with a male acquaintance who possibly recognized me. While in bed in a hospital with my face all battered out of shape, I was under the care of a former physician, to whom however I never had had occasion to reveal that I was an invert. Though we had met a score of times intimately, he failed to recognize me on account of my extreme disfigurement, and I was ashamed to make myself known. I had of course registered at the hospital under an assumed name. ******* To return to the chance meeting on Broadway—I was face to face with the individual whom at the time I desired to meet above every one else in the world, but through fear of blackmail or other undesirable consequences, did not dare confess that I had ever seen. After a moment of speechlessness, and with voice trembling through fright, I answered, " You are mistaken in the person. I do not remember ever seeing you before."

"O you must remember me. You told me you were a waiter in a restaurant on the Bowery. Ain't you working there no more?"

"I never worked in a restaurant. You mistake me for some one else."' Saying this I started to walk on.

"No, not just yet. I think I can convince you that we have met before." He mentions things that occurred at our former meetings. Although all that he said was true, I continued to refuse to admit my identity. Finally he lost patience: "Say, give me a dollar, will you? I haven't had anything to eat for two days. Hand it out,