All the little money that Vandover had saved during the day he
spent that night among the coffee houses, the restaurants, and the
saloons of the Barbary Coast, continuing to eat even after his hunger
was satisfied. Toward daylight he returned to his room, and all dressed
as he was flung himself face downward among the coarse blankets and
greasy counterpane. For nearly eight hours he slept profoundly, with
long snores, prone, inert, crammed and gorged with food.
It was the middle of Sunday afternoon when he awoke. He roused himself
and going over to the Plaza sat for a long while upon one of the
benches. It was a very bright afternoon and Vandover sat motionless for
a long time in the sun while his heavy meal digested, very happy,
content merely to be warm, to be well fed, to be comfortable.
Chapter Eighteen
That winter passed, then the summer; September and October came and
went, and by the middle of November the rains set in. One very wet
afternoon toward the end of the month Charlie Geary sat at his desk in
his own private office. He was unoccupied for the moment, leaning back
in his swivel chair, his feet on the table, smoking a cigar.
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