to look
in his direction, attracted by his peculiar appearance. His was a type
not seen every day in the commercial district--the post-graduate college
man out at elbows. He was smooth-faced and apparently about twenty-five
years of age. His complexion was fair and his face refined. It would
have been handsome but for a drooping, irresolute mouth, which denoted
more than average weakness of character. The face was thin, chalk-like
in its lack of color and deeply seamed with the tell-tale lines of
dissipation. Dark circles under his eyes and a peculiar watery look
suggested late hours and over-fondness for alcoholic refreshment. His
clothes had the cut of expensive tailors, but they were shabby and
needed pressing. His linen was soiled and his necktie disarranged. His
whole appearance was careless and suggested that recklessness of mind
which comes of general demoralization.

Howard Jeffries knew that he was a failure, yet like most young men
mentally weak, he insisted that he could not be held altogether to
blame. Secretly, too, he despised these sober, industrious people who
seemed contented with the crumbs of comfort thrown to them. What, he
wondered idly, was their secret of getting on? How were they able to
lead such well regulated lives when he, starting out with far greater
advantages, had failed? Oh, he knew well where the trouble lay--in his
damnable weakness of character, his love for drink. That was responsible
for everything. But was it his fault if he were born weak? These people
who behaved themselves and got on, he sneered, were calm, commonplace
temperaments who found no difficulty in controlling their baser
instincts. They did right simply because they found it easier than to do
wrong. Their virtue was nothing to brag about. It was easy to be good
when not exposed to temptation. But for those born with the devil in
them it came hard. It was all a matter of heredity and influence. One's
vices as well as one's virtues are handed down to us ready made. He had
no doubt that in the Jeffries family somewhere in the unsavory past
there had been a weak, vicious ancestor from whom he had inherited all
the traits which barred his way to success.

The crowds of hungry workers grew bigger every minute. Every one was
elbowing his way into neighboring restaurants, crowding the tables and
buffets, all eating voraciously as they talked and laughed. Howard was
rudely reminded by inward pangs that he, too, was famished.