Again Felix ruminated.  “Women ever come here?”

“Oh, yes, up to ten o’clock or so—­telephone operators, shop-girls—­that kind.  Two of ’em are over there now; they work in Cryder’s store Christmas and New Year’s, and they get taken on extra.”

“Any others?”

“You mean fancies?”

“No—­straight, decent women, who may live around here and who come regularly in for their meals.”

“Oh, yes—­but they don’t stay long.  And then”—­ he nodded toward the group—­“they don’t want ’em to stay—­no money in grub.  Just a bluff they’ve put up.”

“Have you come across your wife since I saw you?”

“No, and don’t want to.  I’ve got all over that.  A man’s a damn fool to get crazy over a woman, and a bigger damn fool to keep worryin’ when she goes back on him.  They ain’t wuth it, none on ’em.”

“What became of the man she went off with?”

“Got tired and chucked her, after he made a tank of her.  That’s what they all do.”

“Have you ever tried to find her?”

“What for?”

“You might do her some good.”

“Cut it out!  Nuthin’ doin’!  She was rotten when she left me, and she’s rotten now.  Bums round a Raines joint over here on Twenty-eighth Street.  Pick up anybody.  Came staggerin’ into the church full of booze, so a pal o’ mine told me, and got half-way down the aisle before they could fire her.  Drop in there sometime when you go by and ask the sexton if I’m a-lyin’.  No more of that for me, I’m through.  There ain’t but one place for that kind, and that’s Blackwell’s Island, and that’s where they fetch up.  I went through hell afore I saw you because of her, and I’m just pullin’ out and I want to stay out.”

He raised his head, glanced furtively again at the group by the bar, and in a low whisper muttered: 

“I’ve got to go now.  They’ll get onto me next.”

“Never mind those men.  They cannot harm you,” Felix answered, and was about to add some word of sympathy, when he checked himself.  It would only hurt him the more, he thought.  He said instead, his voice conveying what his lips would have uttered: 

“Do you like it here?”

“Got to.”

Felix pushed back his chair, stood erect, and with a gesture as if his mind had been made up said:  “Would you care to do something else?”

The man dropped his broom and straggled to his feet.  “Can ye give me somethin’?  I been a-tryin’ everywhere, but this kind o’ work hoodoos a man, and they won’t give me no ref’rence ’cause I don’t git more’n my board and they don’t want to lose me.  And then” —­here he winked meaningly—­“I know a thing or two.  But, say, do ye mean it?  I’ll go anywhere you want.”

Felix felt in his pocket, drew out a card, and pencilled his address.  “Come some night—­say about eight o’clock.  It’s not far from here.  I am glad you pulled yourself together and went to work.  That is a good deal better than the business you tried to follow when we first met,”—­and one of his dry smiles flickered about his mouth.  “And now, good night,” and he held out his hand.