“Ah, snob is no name for it,” assented Vandover. “She thought she was too damned high-toned for me. As soon as I got into that mess about Ida Wade, she threw me over. No, she didn’t want to be associated with me any longer. Well, she can go to the devil. Geary’s welcome to her.”
“I thought Dolly Haight was going to marry her,” said Ellis. “What was the matter there?”
“I don’t know,” returned Vandover; “probably Dolly Haight didn’t have enough money to suit her. Guess she wants a man that will make his pile in this town and make his way, too. Ah, you bet!”
Half an hour later he was still behind Ellis’ chair. Ellis had become so fidgety that he was losing steadily. Once more he turned to Vandover, speaking over his shoulder, “Come on, come on, Van, go along to your football; you make me nervous standing there.” Vandover pushed a ten-dollar gold-piece across the table to the Dummy, who was banking, and said:
“Give me that in chips. I’m coming in.”
“I thought you were going to the game?” inquired Ellis.
“Ah, the devil!” answered Vandover. “Too much rain.”
They had played without interruption all that afternoon, and for once Vandover had all the luck. When they broke up about five o’clock with the understanding to meet again in the Imperial at seven, he had won nearly a hundred dollars.
When Vandover went out to keep this appointment he found the streets—especially Kearney and Market streets—crowded. It was about half-past six. The football game was over and the college men had returned. They were everywhere, marching about in long files, chain-gang fashion, each file headed by a man beating upon a gong, or parading the sidewalks ten abreast, singing college songs or shouting their slogan. At every moment one heard the college yells answering each other from street corner to street corner, “Rah, rah, rah—Rah, rah, rah!” Vandover found the Imperial crowded with students. The barroom was packed to the doors, every one of the little rooms in the front hall was full, while Flossie and Nannie had a great party of the young fellows in one of the larger rooms in the rear. Among the crowd in the barroom, three members of the winning team—heroes, with bandages about their heads—were breaking training, smoking and drinking for the first time in many long weeks.
Vandover found Ellis and the Dummy leaning against the wall in the crowded front passage. They were both in bad humour, the Dummy sulking because Flossie had left him for one of the football men, the full-back, a young blond giant with two dislocated fingers; Ellis in a rage because he could get no cocktails at the bar, only straight drinks that night—too much of a crowd. These damn college sports thought they owned the town. “Ah, let’s get out of here, Van!” he called over the heads of the throng as soon as Vandover came in sight.