I lost every damned one of them playing cards--gambled
'em all away. Ain't I no good? But I was winner once--just in two nights
I won ten thousand dollars. Then I must have lost it again. You see, I
get so hungry sometimes that I twitch all over--so, just like that. Lend
me a dollar."
For a few moments Geary was silent, watching Vandover curiously, as he
sat in a heap on the edge of the chair, fumbling his greenish hat,
looking about the floor. Presently he asked:
"When did you lose your job at the paint-shop?"
"Day before yesterday."
"And you are out of work now?"
"Yes," answered Vandover. "I'm broke; I haven't a cent. I'm blest if I
know how I'm to get along. Lately I've been working for a paint-shop,
painting landscapes on safes. I drew down fifty dollars a week there,
but I've lost my job."
"Good Lord, Van!" Geary suddenly exclaimed, nodding his head toward him
reflectively, "I'm sorry for you!"
The other laughed. "Yes; I suppose I'm a pitiable looking object, but
I'm used to it. I don't mind much now as long as I can have a place to
sleep and enough to eat.
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