There was no one else in the place except the old negro caretaker and his wife.

Four-fifths of the book was written in three weeks there.

Then I went to New York, and at the Lotus Club, where I had a room, I finished it--but not quite.

There were a few pages of the book to do when I went for my walk in Fifth Avenue one afternoon.

I could not shake the thing off, the last pages demanded to be written.