story.  She makes me keep my distance.  She hasn’t even shook hands with me since we was engaged.  I’ll pay her for that after awhile.”  He walked up and down his room breathing quick and hard.  “I shall risk my neck, I know; but it won’t be the first time, and I never will have such a reason again.  She beats anything I ever saw.  I’ve got to have the money—­to suit such a woman. . . .  I’m almost sorry for Sam—­but the Lord made some men to be other men’s fools. . . .”

This was the staple of his musings; other things less edifying still may be omitted.

While he was engaged in this manner he heard a timid knock at his door.  “Another visitor?  I’m getting popular,” he said, and went to open the door.

A seedy, forlorn-looking man came in; he took off his shabby hat and held it under his arm.

He said, “Good-evenin’,” in a tone a little above a whisper.

“Well, what’s the matter?” asked Offitt.

“Have you heered about Brother Bowersox?”

“Never mind the brothering—­that’s played out.  What is there about Bowersox?”

“He’s dangerous; they don’t think he’ll live through the night.”

“Well, what of it?”

This was not encouraging, but the poor Bread-winner ventured to say, “I thought some of the Brothers——­”

But Offitt closed the subject by a brutal laugh.  “The Brothers are looking out for themselves these times.  The less said about the Brotherhood the better.  It’s up the spout, do you hear?”

The poor fellow shrunk away into his ragged clothes, and went out with a submissive “Good-evenin’.”

“I’ll never found another Brotherhood,” Offitt said to himself.  “It’s more trouble than it brings in.”

It was now growing dark.  He took his hat and went down the stairs and out into the street.  He entered a restaurant and ordered a beefsteak, which he ate, paid for, and departed after a short chat with the waiter, whom he knew.  He went around the corner, entered another eating-house, called for a cup of coffee and a roll.  There also he was careful to speak with the man who served him, slapping him on the shoulder with familiarity.  He went into a drug store a little later and bought a glass of soda-water, dropping the glass on the marble floor, and paying for it after some controversy.  He then walked up to Dean Street.  He found the family all together in the sitting-room.  He chatted awhile with them, and asked for Sleeny.

“I don’t really know where Sam is.  He ain’t so reg’lar in his hours as he used to be,” said Saul.  “I hope he ain’t gettin’ wild.”

“I hope not,” said Offitt, in a tone of real distress—­then, after a pause, “You needn’t mention my havin’ asked for him.  He may be sensitive about it.”

As he came away, Maud followed him to the door.  He whispered, “Be ready, my beauty, to start at a moment’s notice.  The money is on the way.  You shall live like a queen before many days are gone.”