With an unhurried gait and freshly washed, carefully cut hair combed a la James Bond, I set off for a walk. How could those passersby, out walking themselves and their dogs by the fresh East River with its link to the sea, how could they, mere pedestrians, know that the sleek and dignified man with the tranquil face is just a servant in the millionaire's five-story house, and that his aristocratic custom of a morning walk is due simply to the fact that on Saturday and Sunday his employer is never at home — that the multimillionaire employer invariably spends his weekends at His Highness's multimillionaire estate in Connecticut, and that that's the reason the servant plays master on Saturdays and Sundays.
The day is already warm, and as I walk in the direction of the beautiful windows of Madison, calmly and superbly playing my role, a New York springtime breeze pleasantly plays with my hair.