He knew where he could dine excellently well for twenty cents. However,
he could not make up his mind to go without his Sunday morning's
breakfast. That, he told himself, he must eat.
Once dressed, Vandover went out. Fortunately, the rain had stopped. He
went on down through the reeking, steaming streets to one of the big
fruit markets not far from the water front. The Portuguese fruit vender
who roomed next to him at the Reno House was employed at a stall here.
Vandover knew him a little, and it was not hard for him to get a thin
slice of cocoanut out from the inside rind of one of those that were
lying cracked open among his other wares.
All the morning Vandover chewed this slice of cocoanut, at the same time
drinking a great deal of water; for hours he deadened the pang of hunger
by this means. He passed the time for the most part sitting on the
benches in the Plaza reading an old newspaper that he had found under a
seat. The sun came out a little; Vandover found the warmth very
grateful. He told himself that he could easily hold out until the next
morning.
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