:45:02
He was one of the customers,
a young American.
:45:06
He used to buy music paper
:45:08
in large and small amounts,
according to his finances.
:45:12
He seemed so lonely,
so helpless and shy.
:45:16
There was something pathetic
about him.
:45:19
I wouldn't have noticed him,
but someone tried to elbow in.
:45:23
When I ignored the other man,
he smiled in gratitude.
:45:27
The old charwoman who worked where
he lived told me he was Mr. Neville,
:45:31
a composer,
and that he occupied the top room.
:45:34
There were days I knew he went
without food to buy music paper.
:45:38
I could see it in his eyes.
:45:40
The haggard look.
:45:42
Sometimes I'd throw in
a few extra sheets.
:45:44
Once I gave him more
than his proper change,
:45:46
which he might have noticed,
but I wasn't sure.
:45:49
Often after work I'd stroll by his
house and hear him playing piano,
:45:54
repeating musical passages
over and over again.
:45:57
And I'd stand listening,
excited and melancholy.
:46:23
Well, what then?
:46:29
Then for weeks I never saw him.
:46:32
The charwoman told me he was ill.
Creditors had taken his piano.
:46:37
Eventually he came into the shop
looking very pale
:46:41
and asked for two shillings worth
of large orchestral sheets,
:46:44
placing a two shilling piece
on the counter.
:46:48
I knew it was his last.
:46:50
If I could only help him!
If I only dared!
:46:54
I could lend him money.
I wanted to tell him so.
:46:58
But I was also shy.