se as much, and we'd pool our capital, starting in
the business ourselves--on a small scale, of course. If we hit it right
we might make a nice income."
Howard's mouth watered. Certainly that was the kind of life he liked
best. The feverish excitement of gambling, the close association with
rich men, the promise of a luxurious style of living--all this appealed
to him strongly. But what was the use? Where could he get $2,000? He
couldn't go to his father. He shook his head.
"I'm afraid not, old sport," he said as they left the saloon and he held
out his hand to say good-by. "But I'll bear it in mind, and if things
improve, I'll look you up. So long!"
Climbing wearily up the dirty stairs of the elevated railroad, he bought
a ticket with one of the few nickels remaining in his pocket, and taking
a seat in a northbound train started on his trip back to Harlem.
The day was overcast, rain threatened. A pall of mingled smoke and mist
hung over the entire city. From the car window as the train wound its
serpentine course in and out the maze of grimy offices, shops and
tenements, everything appeared drab, dirty and squalid. New York was
seen at its ugliest. Ensconced in a cross-seat, his chin leaning heavily
on his hand, Howard gazed dejectedly out of the window. The depressing
outlook was in keeping with his own state of mind.
How would the adventure end? Reconciliation with his father was out of
the question. Letters sent home remained without response. He wasn't
surprised. He knew his pater too well to expect that he would relent so
soon. Besides, if the old man were so infernally proud, he'd show him he
had some pride too. He'd drown himself before he'd go down on his knees,
whining to be forgiven. His father was dead wrong, anyway. His marriage
might have been foolish; Annie might be beneath him socially. She was
not educated and her father wasn't any better than he ought to be. She
did not talk correctly, her manners left much to be desired, at times he
was secretly ashamed of her. But her bringing up was her misfortune, not
her fault. The girl herself was straight as a die. She had a heart of
gold. She was far more intelligent, far more likely to make him a happy
home than some stuck-up, idle society girl who had no thought for
anything save money, dress and show. Perhaps if he had been less
honorable and not married her, his father would have thought more
highly of him. If he'd ruined the girl, no doubt he woul
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