By this time he had torn the paper from one of his
cigarettes and was chewing the tobacco. This was his last resort, an
expedient which he fell back upon only in great extremity, as it
invariably made him sick to his stomach. He slept a little, but in half
an hour was broad awake again, gagging and retching dreadfully. There
was nothing on his stomach to throw up, and now at length the hunger in
him raged like a wolf. Vandover was in veritable torment.
He could not keep his thoughts away from the money in his pocket, a
nickel and two dimes. He could eat if he wanted to, could satisfy this
incessant craving. At every moment the temptation grew stronger. Why
should he wait until morning? He had the money; it was only a matter of
a few minutes' walk to the nearest saloon. But he set his face against
this desire; he had held out so long that it would be a pity to give in
now; he was not so very hungry after all. No, no; he would not give in,
he was strong enough; as long as he used his will he need not succumb.
It was just a question of asserting his strength of mind, of calling up
the better part of him.
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