But in between was this other, this ultra-human side, which ran to such commonplaces as bowling, tennis-playing, golf, billiards, cards and gambling with the dice—­a thing which always struck me as having an odd turn to it in connection with Peter, since he could be interested in so many other things, and yet he pursued these commonplaces with as much gusto at times as one possessed of a mania.  At others he seemed not to miss or think of them.  Indeed, you could be sure of him and all his interests, whatever they were, feeling that he had himself well in hand, knew exactly how far he was going, and that when the time came he could and would stop.  Yet during the process of his momentary relaxation or satiation, in whatever field it might be, he would give you a sense of abandon, even ungovernable appetite, which to one who had not known him long might have indicated a mania.

Thus I remember once running over to Philadelphia to spend a Saturday and Sunday with him, visits of this kind, in either direction, being of the commonest occurrence.  At that time he was living in some quiet-looking boarding-house in South Fourth Street, but in which dwelt or visited the group above-mentioned, and whenever I came there, at least, there was always an atmosphere of intense gaming or playing in some form, which conveyed to me nothing so much as a glorious sense of life and pleasure.  A dozen or more men might be seated at or standing about a poker or dice table, in summer (often in winter) with their coats off, their sleeves rolled up, Peter always conspicuous among them.  On the table or to one side would be money, a pitcher or a tin pail of beer, boxes of cigarettes or cigars, and there would be Peter among the players, flushed with excitement, his collar off, his hair awry, his little figure stirring about here and there or gesticulating or lighting a cigar or pouring down a glass of beer, shouting at the top of his voice, his eyes aglow, “That’s mine!” “I say it’s not!” “Two on the sixes!” “Three!” “Four!” “Ah, roll the bones!  Roll the bones!” “Get off!  Get off!  Come on now, Spikes—­cough up!  You’ve got the money now.  Pay back.  No more loans if you don’t.”  “Once on the fours—­the fives—­the aces!” “Roll the bones!  Roll the bones!  Come on!” Or, if he saw me, softening and saying, “Gee, Dreiser, I’m ahead twenty-eight so far!” or “I’ve lost thirty all told.  I’ll stick this out, though, to win or lose five more, and then I’ll quit.  I give notice, you fellows, five more, one way or the other, and then I’m through.  See?  Say, these damned sharks are always trying to turn a trick.  And when they lose they don’t want to pay.  I’m offa this for life unless I get a better deal.”