noon
Night and sleep surrendered him to grotesque combinations -- Gittel Goldstein smoking cigarettes in a bath-room , Yvonne Rupert playing Yiddish heroines in a little chapel . In the clear morning these absurdities were forgotten in the realized absurdity of the initial identification . But a forenoon at the pasting-desk brought back the haunting thought . At noon he morbidly expended his lunch-dime on an ` Yvonne Rupert ' cigar , and smoked it with a semi-insane feeling that he was repossessing his Gittel . Certainly it was delicious . He wandered into the box-making room , where the man who tended the witty nail-driving machine was seated on a stack of Mexican cedar-wood , eating from a package of sausage and scrapple that sent sobering whiffs to the reckless smoker . ` You ever seen this Yvonne Rupert ? '