{"id":"01KG0725N1AW73BK692GT6CGC5","cid":"bafkreihjbhi6q44vciugvvbbovubueswjyrdzeyhcqcndddsoldxxsgfoa","type":"chapter","properties":{"description":"# Chapter 13 \n## Overview \nThis entity is a chapter from a literary work, labeled as \"13\" and spanning lines 2191 to 2464 of its source text. It takes the form of a narrative prose chapter, presented in a digitally extracted format with embedded page references. The chapter was processed on January 27, 2026, as part of a structured document analysis workflow.\n\n## Context \nThe chapter is part of a larger work contained within the [More Classics](arke:01KFXT0KM64XT6K8W52TDEE0YS) collection, which includes canonical Western texts. It is divided into six smaller textual segments known as chunks ([Chunk 1](arke:01KG078CMCS4W7PREKGHBQV66S) through [Chunk 6](arke:01KG078D1ADY6MMVZWPCWFHHZ7)), each representing a portion of the chapter for processing and analysis purposes. The source file, identified as \"Rye.pdf,\" suggests this is a chapter from *The Catcher in the Rye* by J.D. Salinger.\n\n## Contents \nThe chapter follows the protagonist, Holden Caulfield, as he walks forty-one blocks back to his hotel in New York City after a night out. Reflecting on his tendency to avoid taxis and elevators, he recalls childhood memories and dwells on his lost gloves and feelings of personal cowardice (\"yellowness\"). Depressed and lonely, he accepts an offer from the elevator operator, Maurice, to have a prostitute sent to his room. Upon arriving, the young sex worker, named Sunny, immediately begins undressing, but Holden feels increasingly uncomfortable and depressed rather than aroused. He lies about recovering from surgery to avoid intimacy and offers to pay her just to talk. After a tense exchange, he gives her five dollars, though she demands ten. When she becomes confrontational, he complies with her request to retrieve her dress, and she leaves, calling him \"crumb-bum.\" Throughout, Holden reveals his virginity, insecurity, and deep emotional isolation, particularly in his interactions with women. The chapter captures his internal conflict, moral confusion, and longing for connection amid urban alienation.","description_generated_at":"2026-01-27T17:21:35.747Z","description_model":"Qwen/Qwen3-235B-A22B-Instruct-2507","description_title":"Chapter 13","end_line":2464,"extracted_at":"2026-01-27T17:12:16.502Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"13","source_file":"01KFYTG9MG93RTB6YAW34V48XG","start_line":2191,"text":" 2098\t13\n 2099\tI walked all the way back to the hotel. Forty-one gorgeous blocks. I didn't do it\n 2100\tbecause I felt like walking or anything. It was more because I didn't feel like getting in\n\n\n 2101\tand out of another taxicab. Sometimes you get tired of riding in taxicabs the same way\n 2102\tyou get tired riding in elevators. All of a sudden, you have to walk, no matter how far or\n 2103\thow high up. When I was a kid, I used to walk all the way up to our apartment very\n 2104\tfrequently. Twelve stories.\n 2105\tYou wouldn't even have known it had snowed at all. There was hardly any snow\n 2106\ton the sidewalks. But it was freezing cold, and I took my red hunting hat out of my\n 2107\tpocket and put it on--I didn't give a damn how I looked. I even put the earlaps down. I\n 2108\twished I knew who'd swiped my gloves at Pencey, because my hands were freezing. Not\n 2109\tthat I'd have done much about it even if I had known. I'm one of these very yellow guys. I\n 2110\ttry not to show it, but I am. For instance, if I'd found out at Pencey who'd stolen my\n 2111\tgloves, I probably would've gone down to the crook's room and said, \"Okay. How 'bout\n 2112\thanding over those gloves?\" Then the crook that had stolen them probably would've said,\n 2113\this voice very innocent and all, \"What gloves?\" Then what I probably would've done, I'd\n 2114\thave gone in his closet and found the gloves somewhere. Hidden in his goddam galoshes\n 2115\tor something, for instance. I'd have taken them out and showed them to the guy and said,\n 2116\t\"I suppose these are your goddam gloves?\" Then the crook probably would've given me\n 2117\tthis very phony, innocent look, and said, \"I never saw those gloves before in my life. If\n 2118\tthey're yours, take 'em. I don't want the goddam things.\" Then I probably would've just\n 2119\tstood there for about five minutes. I'd have the damn gloves right in my hand and all, but\n 2120\tI'd feel I ought to sock the guy in the jaw or something--break his goddam jaw. Only, I\n 2121\twouldn't have the guts to do it. I'd just stand there, trying to look tough. What I might do,\n 2122\tI might say something very cutting and snotty, to rile him up--instead of socking him in\n 2123\tthe jaw. Anyway if I did say something very cutting and snotty, he'd probably get up and\n 2124\tcome over to me and say, \"Listen, Caulfield. Are you calling me a crook?\" Then, instead\n 2125\tof saying, \"You're goddam right I am, you dirty crooked bastard!\" all I probably would've\n 2126\tsaid would be, \"All I know is my goddam gloves were in your goddam galoshes.\" Right\n 2127\taway then, the guy would know for sure that I wasn't going to take a sock at him, and he\n 2128\tprobably would've said, \"Listen. Let's get this straight. Are you calling me a thief?\" Then\n 2129\tI probably would've said, \"Nobody's calling anybody a thief. All I know is my gloves\n 2130\twere in your goddam galoshes.\" It could go on like that for hours. Finally, though, I'd\n 2131\tleave his room without even taking a sock at him. I'd probably go down to the can and\n 2132\tsneak a cigarette and watch myself getting tough in the mirror. Anyway, that's what I\n 2133\tthought about the whole way back to the hotel. It's no fun to he yellow. Maybe I'm not all\n 2134\tyellow. I don't know. I think maybe I'm just partly yellow and partly the type that doesn't\n 2135\tgive much of a damn if they lose their gloves. One of my troubles is, I never care too\n 2136\tmuch when I lose something--it used to drive my mother crazy when I was a kid. Some\n 2137\tguys spend days looking for something they lost. I never seem to have anything that if I\n 2138\tlost it I'd care too much. Maybe that's why I'm partly yellow. It's no excuse, though. It\n 2139\treally isn't. What you should be is not yellow at all. If you're supposed to sock somebody\n 2140\tin the jaw, and you sort of feel like doing it, you should do it. I'm just no good at it,\n 2141\tthough. I'd rather push a guy out the window or chop his head off with an ax than sock\n 2142\thim in the jaw. I hate fist fights. I don't mind getting hit so much--although I'm not crazy\n 2143\tabout it, naturally--but what scares me most in a fist fight is the guy's face. I can't stand\n 2144\tlooking at the other guy's face, is my trouble. It wouldn't be so bad if you could both be\n 2145\tblindfolded or something. It's a funny kind of yellowness, when you come to think of it,\n 2146\tbut it's yellowness, all right. I'm not kidding myself.\n\n\n 2147\tThe more I thought about my gloves and my yellowness, the more depressed I\n 2148\tgot, and I decided, while I was walking and all, to stop off and have a drink somewhere.\n 2149\tI'd only had three drinks at Ernie's, and I didn't even finish the last one. One thing I have,\n 2150\tit's a terrific capacity. I can drink all night and not even show it, if I'm in the mood. Once,\n 2151\tat the Whooton School, this other boy, Raymond Goldfarb, and I bought a pint of Scotch\n 2152\tand drank it in the chapel one Saturday night, where nobody'd see us. He got stinking, but\n 2153\tI hardly didn't even show it. I just got very cool and nonchalant. I puked before I went to\n 2154\tbed, but I didn't really have to--I forced myself.\n 2155\tAnyway, before I got to the hotel, I started to go in this dumpy-looking bar, but\n 2156\ttwo guys came out, drunk as hell, and wanted to know where the subway was. One of\n 2157\tthem was this very Cuban-looking guy, and he kept breathing his stinking breath in my\n 2158\tface while I gave him directions. I ended up not even going in the damn bar. I just went\n 2159\tback to the hotel.\n 2160\tThe whole lobby was empty. It smelled like fifty million dead cigars. It really did.\n 2161\tI wasn't sleepy or anything, but I was feeling sort of lousy. Depressed and all. I almost\n 2162\twished I was dead.\n 2163\tThen, all of a sudden, I got in this big mess.\n 2164\tThe first thing when I got in the elevator, the elevator guy said to me, \"Innarested\n 2165\tin having a good time, fella? Or is it too late for you?\"\n 2166\t\"How do you mean?\" I said. I didn't know what he was driving at or anything.\n 2167\t\"Innarested in a little tail t'night?\"\n 2168\t\"Me?\" I said. Which was a very dumb answer, but it's quite embarrassing when\n 2169\tsomebody comes right up and asks you a question like that.\n 2170\t\"How old are you, chief?\" the elevator guy said.\n 2171\t\"Why?\" I said. \"Twenty-two.\"\n 2172\t\"Uh huh. Well, how 'bout it? Y'innarested? Five bucks a throw. Fifteen bucks the\n 2173\twhole night.\" He looked at his wrist watch. \"Till noon. Five bucks a throw, fifteen bucks\n 2174\ttill noon.\"\n 2175\t\"Okay,\" I said. It was against my principles and all, but I was feeling so depressed\n 2176\tI didn't even think. That's the whole trouble. When you're feeling very depressed, you\n 2177\tcan't even think.\n 2178\t\"Okay what? A throw, or till noon? I gotta know.\"\n 2179\t\"Just a throw.\"\n 2180\t\"Okay, what room ya in?\"\n 2181\tI looked at the red thing with my number on it, on my key. \"Twelve twenty-two,\"\n 2182\tI said. I was already sort of sorry I'd let the thing start rolling, but it was too late now.\n 2183\t\"Okay. I'll send a girl up in about fifteen minutes.\" He opened the doors and I got\n 2184\tout.\n 2185\t\"Hey, is she good-looking?\" I asked him. \"I don't want any old bag.\"\n 2186\t\"No old bag. Don't worry about it, chief.\"\n 2187\t\"Who do I pay?\"\n 2188\t\"Her,\" he said. \"Let's go, chief.\" He shut the doors, practically right in my face.\n 2189\tI went to my room and put some water on my hair, but you can't really comb a\n 2190\tcrew cut or anything. Then I tested to see if my breath stank from so many cigarettes and\n 2191\tthe Scotch and sodas I drank at Ernie's. All you do is hold your hand under your mouth\n 2192\tand blow your breath up toward the old nostrils. It didn't seem to stink much, but I\n\n\n 2193\tbrushed my teeth anyway. Then I put on another clean shirt. I knew I didn't have to get\n 2194\tall dolled up for a prostitute or anything, but it sort of gave me something to do. I was a\n 2195\tlittle nervous. I was starting to feel pretty sexy and all, but I was a little nervous anyway.\n 2196\tIf you want to know the truth, I'm a virgin. I really am. I've had quite a few opportunities\n 2197\tto lose my virginity and all, but I've never got around to it yet. Something always\n 2198\thappens. For instance, if you're at a girl's house, her parents always come home at the\n 2199\twrong time--or you're afraid they will. Or if you're in the back seat of somebody's car,\n 2200\tthere's always somebody's date in the front seat--some girl, I mean--that always wants to\n 2201\tknow what's going on all over the whole goddam car. I mean some girl in front keeps\n 2202\tturning around to see what the hell's going on. Anyway, something always happens. I\n 2203\tcame quite close to doing it a couple of times, though. One time in particular, I\n 2204\tremember. Something went wrong, though --I don't even remember what any more. The\n 2205\tthing is, most of the time when you're coming pretty close to doing it with a girl--a girl\n 2206\tthat isn't a prostitute or anything, I mean--she keeps telling you to stop. The trouble with\n 2207\tme is, I stop. Most guys don't. I can't help it. You never know whether they really want\n 2208\tyou to stop, or whether they're just scared as hell, or whether they're just telling you to\n 2209\tstop so that if you do go through with it, the blame'll be on you, not them. Anyway, I\n 2210\tkeep stopping. The trouble is, I get to feeling sorry for them. I mean most girls are so\n 2211\tdumb and all. After you neck them for a while, you can really watch them losing their\n 2212\tbrains. You take a girl when she really gets passionate, she just hasn't any brains. I don't\n 2213\tknow. They tell me to stop, so I stop. I always wish I hadn't, after I take them home, but I\n 2214\tkeep doing it anyway.\n 2215\tAnyway, while I was putting on another clean shirt, I sort of figured this was my\n 2216\tbig chance, in a way. I figured if she was a prostitute and all, I could get in some practice\n 2217\ton her, in case I ever get married or anything. I worry about that stuff sometimes. I read\n 2218\tthis book once, at the Whooton School, that had this very sophisticated, suave, sexy guy\n 2219\tin it. Monsieur Blanchard was his name, I can still remember. It was a lousy book, but\n 2220\tthis Blanchard guy was pretty good. He had this big château and all on the Riviera, in\n 2221\tEurope, and all he did in his spare time was beat women off with a club. He was a real\n 2222\trake and all, but he knocked women out. He said, in this one part, that a woman's body is\n 2223\tlike a violin and all, and that it takes a terrific musician to play it right. It was a very\n 2224\tcorny book--I realize that--but I couldn't get that violin stuff out of my mind anyway. In a\n 2225\tway, that's why I sort of wanted to get some practice in, in case I ever get married.\n 2226\tCaulfield and his Magic Violin, boy. It's corny, I realize, but it isn't too corny. I wouldn't\n 2227\tmind being pretty good at that stuff. Half the time, if you really want to know the truth,\n 2228\twhen I'm horsing around with a girl, I have a helluva lot of trouble just finding what I'm\n 2229\tlooking for, for God's sake, if you know what I mean. Take this girl that I just missed\n 2230\thaving sexual intercourse with, that I told you about. It took me about an hour to just get\n 2231\ther goddam brassiere off. By the time I did get it off, she was about ready to spit in my\n 2232\teye.\n 2233\tAnyway, I kept walking around the room, waiting for this prostitute to show up. I\n 2234\tkept hoping she'd be good-looking. I didn't care too much, though. I sort of just wanted to\n 2235\tget it over with. Finally, somebody knocked on the door, and when I went to open it, I\n 2236\thad my suitcase right in the way and I fell over it and damn near broke my knee. I always\n 2237\tpick a gorgeous time to fall over a suitcase or something.\n\n\n 2238\tWhen I opened the door, this prostitute was standing there. She had a polo coat\n 2239\ton, and no hat. She was sort of a blonde, but you could tell she dyed her hair. She wasn't\n 2240\tany old bag, though. \"How do you do,\" I said. Suave as hell, boy.\n 2241\t\"You the guy Maurice said?\" she asked me. She didn't seem too goddam friendly.\n 2242\t\"Is he the elevator boy?\"\n 2243\t\"Yeah,\" she said.\n 2244\t\"Yes, I am. Come in, won't you?\" I said. I was getting more and more nonchalant\n 2245\tas it went along. I really was.\n 2246\tShe came in and took her coat off right away and sort of chucked it on the bed.\n 2247\tShe had on a green dress underneath. Then she sort of sat down sideways on the chair\n 2248\tthat went with the desk in the room and started jiggling her foot up and down. She\n 2249\tcrossed her legs and started jiggling this one foot up and down. She was very nervous, for\n 2250\ta prostitute. She really was. I think it was because she was young as hell. She was around\n 2251\tmy age. I sat down in the big chair, next to her, and offered her a cigarette. \"I don't\n 2252\tsmoke,\" she said. She had a tiny little wheeny-whiny voice. You could hardly hear her.\n 2253\tShe never said thank you, either, when you offered her something. She just didn't know\n 2254\tany better.\n 2255\t\"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Jim Steele,\" I said.\n 2256\t\"Ya got a watch on ya?\" she said. She didn't care what the hell my name was,\n 2257\tnaturally. \"Hey, how old are you, anyways?\"\n 2258\t\"Me? Twenty-two.\"\n 2259\t\"Like fun you are.\"\n 2260\tIt was a funny thing to say. It sounded like a real kid. You'd think a prostitute and\n 2261\tall would say \"Like hell you are\" or \"Cut the crap\" instead of \"Like fun you are.\"\n 2262\t\"How old are you?\" I asked her.\n 2263\t\"Old enough to know better,\" she said. She was really witty. \"Ya got a watch on\n 2264\tya?\" she asked me again, and then she stood up and pulled her dress over her head.\n 2265\tI certainly felt peculiar when she did that. I mean she did it so sudden and all. I\n 2266\tknow you're supposed to feel pretty sexy when somebody gets up and pulls their dress\n 2267\tover their head, but I didn't. Sexy was about the last thing I was feeling. I felt much more\n 2268\tdepressed than sexy.\n 2269\t\"Ya got a watch on ya, hey?\"\n 2270\t\"No. No, I don't,\" I said. Boy, was I feeling peculiar. \"What's your name?\" I asked\n 2271\ther. All she had on was this pink slip. It was really quite embarrassing. It really was.\n 2272\t\"Sunny,\" she said. \"Let's go, hey.\"\n 2273\t\"Don't you feel like talking for a while?\" I asked her. It was a childish thing to\n 2274\tsay, but I was feeling so damn peculiar. \"Are you in a very big hurry?\"\n 2275\tShe looked at me like I was a madman. \"What the heck ya wanna talk about?\" she\n 2276\tsaid.\n 2277\t\"I don't know. Nothing special. I just thought perhaps you might care to chat for a\n 2278\twhile.\"\n 2279\tShe sat down in the chair next to the desk again. She didn't like it, though, you\n 2280\tcould tell. She started jiggling her foot again--boy, she was a nervous girl.\n 2281\t\"Would you care for a cigarette now?\" I said. I forgot she didn't smoke.\n 2282\t\"I don't smoke. Listen, if you're gonna talk, do it. I got things to do.\"\n\n\n 2283\tI couldn't think of anything to talk about, though. I thought of asking her how she\n 2284\tgot to be a prostitute and all, but I was scared to ask her. She probably wouldn't've told\n 2285\tme anyway.\n 2286\t\"You don't come from New York, do you?\" I said finally. That's all I could think\n 2287\tof.\n 2288\t\"Hollywood,\" she said. Then she got up and went over to where she'd put her\n 2289\tdress down, on the bed. \"Ya got a hanger? I don't want to get my dress all wrinkly. It's\n 2290\tbrand-clean.\"\n 2291\t\"Sure,\" I said right away. I was only too glad to get up and do something. I took\n 2292\ther dress over to the closet and hung it up for her. It was funny. It made me feel sort of\n 2293\tsad when I hung it up. I thought of her going in a store and buying it, and nobody in the\n 2294\tstore knowing she was a prostitute and all. The salesman probably just thought she was a\n 2295\tregular girl when she bought it. It made me feel sad as hell--I don't know why exactly.\n 2296\tI sat down again and tried to keep the old conversation going. She was a lousy\n 2297\tconversationalist. \"Do you work every night?\" I asked her--it sounded sort of awful, after\n 2298\tI'd said it.\n 2299\t\"Yeah.\" She was walking all around the room. She picked up the menu off the\n 2300\tdesk and read it.\n 2301\t\"What do you do during the day?\"\n 2302\tShe sort of shrugged her shoulders. She was pretty skinny. \"Sleep. Go to the\n 2303\tshow.\" She put down the menu and looked at me. \"Let's go, hey. I haven't got all--\"\n 2304\t\"Look,\" I said. \"I don't feel very much like myself tonight. I've had a rough night.\n 2305\tHonest to God. I'll pay you and all, but do you mind very much if we don't do it? Do you\n 2306\tmind very much?\" The trouble was, I just didn't want to do it. I felt more depressed than\n 2307\tsexy, if you want to know the truth. She was depressing. Her green dress hanging in the\n 2308\tcloset and all. And besides, I don't think I could ever do it with somebody that sits in a\n 2309\tstupid movie all day long. I really don't think I could.\n 2310\tShe came over to me, with this funny look on her face, like as if she didn't believe\n 2311\tme. \"What'sa matter?\" she said.\n 2312\t\"Nothing's the matter.\" Boy, was I getting nervous. \"The thing is, I had an\n 2313\toperation very recently.\"\n 2314\t\"Yeah? Where?\"\n 2315\t\"On my wuddayacallit--my clavichord.\"\n 2316\t\"Yeah? Where the hell's that?\"\n 2317\t\"The clavichord?\" I said. \"Well, actually, it's in the spinal canal. I mean it's quite a\n 2318\tways down in the spinal canal.\"\n 2319\t\"Yeah?\" she said. \"That's tough.\" Then she sat down on my goddam lap. \"You're\n 2320\tcute.\"\n 2321\tShe made me so nervous, I just kept on lying my head off. \"I'm still recuperating,\"\n 2322\tI told her.\n 2323\t\"You look like a guy in the movies. You know. Whosis. You know who I mean.\n 2324\tWhat the heck's his name?\"\n 2325\t\"I don't know,\" I said. She wouldn't get off my goddam lap.\n 2326\t\"Sure you know. He was in that pitcher with Mel-vine Douglas? The one that was\n 2327\tMel-vine Douglas's kid brother? That falls off this boat? You know who I mean.\"\n 2328\t\"No, I don't. I go to the movies as seldom as I can.\"\n\n\n 2329\tThen she started getting funny. Crude and all.\n 2330\t\"Do you mind cutting it out?\" I said. \"I'm not in the mood, I just told you. I just\n 2331\thad an operation.\"\n 2332\tShe didn't get up from my lap or anything, but she gave me this terrifically dirty\n 2333\tlook. \"Listen,\" she said. \"I was sleepin' when that crazy Maurice woke me up. If you\n 2334\tthink I'm--\"\n 2335\t\"I said I'd pay you for coming and all. I really will. I have plenty of dough. It's\n 2336\tjust that I'm practically just recovering from a very serious--\"\n 2337\t\"What the heck did you tell that crazy Maurice you wanted a girl for, then? If you\n 2338\tjust had a goddam operation on your goddam wuddayacallit. Huh?\"\n 2339\t\"I thought I'd be feeling a lot better than I do. I was a little premature in my\n 2340\tcalculations. No kidding. I'm sorry. If you'll just get up a second, I'll get my wallet. I\n 2341\tmean it.\"\n 2342\tShe was sore as hell, but she got up off my goddam lap so that I could go over and\n 2343\tget my wallet off the chiffonier. I took out a five-dollar bill and handed it to her. \"Thanks\n 2344\ta lot,\" I told her. \"Thanks a million.\"\n 2345\t\"This is a five. It costs ten.\"\n 2346\tShe was getting funny, you could tell. I was afraid something like that would\n 2347\thappen--I really was.\n 2348\t\"Maurice said five,\" I told her. \"He said fifteen till noon and only five for a\n 2349\tthrow.\"\n 2350\t\"Ten for a throw.\"\n 2351\t\"He said five. I'm sorry--I really am--but that's all I'm gonna shell out.\"\n 2352\tShe sort of shrugged her shoulders, the way she did before, and then she said,\n 2353\tvery cold, \"Do you mind getting me my frock? Or would it be too much trouble?\" She\n 2354\twas a pretty spooky kid. Even with that little bitty voice she had, she could sort of scare\n 2355\tyou a little bit. If she'd been a big old prostitute, with a lot of makeup on her face and all,\n 2356\tshe wouldn't have been half as spooky.\n 2357\tI went and got her dress for her. She put it on and all, and then she picked up her\n 2358\tpolo coat off the bed. \"So long, crumb-bum,\" she said.\n 2359\t\"So long,\" I said. I didn't thank her or anything. 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