We crossed to the other side of the road.

December 8. . . . A precatory letter from Gillies. I must do Molière for him, I suppose; but it is wonderful that knowing the situation I am in, the poor fellow presses so hard.

My skinned knuckles hurt until the scrape healed.

In the basement of Hot Millions 2 (opposite) is this youth-oriented, discolike bar with neon lights, loud music and a pool table.