Men and women live on the single, and prey on each other.
One half are sharks, and the other half are their victims!" But there were two persons in New York City who now feared to approach each other.

Emil Einstein, after a whispered conference with his pale-faced mother in her shabby den on the East Side, hastily called a wagon and transported all his slender effects to the little room in rear of Magdal's Pharmacy, where the bogus doctor had had his Sunday conferences with his bibulous patrons--the regular "sick people"-- sick of a thirst, beginning officially with Saturday midnight and ending, providentially, on Monday morning.
Bob Timmins and Emil Einstein were already secret allies and the Don Juans of a coterie of haphazard Sixth Avenue beauties.

There was a usefulness to both in the new alliance, and Einstein was already the destined secret patron of the degraded Timmins.
"It's a good shelter for me," mused the adroit Hebrew, "but I'll never tell him a word of the old man." The parting between Leah and her hopeful son had been a wild access of maternal tenderness.

"You see, I've got to," growled the boy.
"You don't want to go to the chair, or get into Sing Sing, if this fellow Clayton turns up a stiff.

I don't know what the 'old man' was up to.
"You do! And I don't ever want to! The only way we can meet is once a week in the crowd around the Germania Theater on Astor Place.
"I'll come there afternoon or evening each Saturday, and hang around till I see you.