He buried himself in his papers and read. Oh, the rest of it--the relief from walking and thinking! What Lethean waters werethese floods of telegraphed intelligence! He forgot his troubles,in part. Here was a young, handsome woman, if you might believethe newspaper drawing, suing a rich, fat, candy-making husband inBrooklyn for divorce. Here was another item detailing thewrecking of a vessel in ice and snow off Prince's Bay on StatenIsland. A long, bright column told of the doings in thetheatrical world--the plays produced, the actors appearing, themanagers making announcements. Fannie Davenport was just openingat the Fifth Avenue. Daly was producing "King Lear." He read ofthe early departure for the season of a party composed of theVanderbilts and their friends for Florida. An interestingshooting affray was on in the mountains of Kentucky. So he read,read, read, rocking in the warm room near the radiator andwaiting for dinner to be served.