Strike this first thing tomorrow morning." "Yes, sir," said Jimmie.

The door was closed and the men walked away.
Merton trailed them a bit, not remaining too pointedly near the cabin.
He circled around through Fifth Avenue to regain the place.
Softly he let himself in and groped through the dark until his hand closed upon the abandoned razor.

Satisfying himself that fresh blades had accompanied it, he made ready for bed.

He knew it was to be his last night in this shelter.

The director had told Jimmie to strike it first thing in the morning.