red as though seen through a veil. He lived in the district
where men do not say "Good-morning" on meeting one another, but "How's
the market?" or, when one asks: "How do you feel?" receives for an
answer: "Bullish!" or "Bearish!" instead of a reply regarding the state
of health.

At first, after the fatal slump, Gilmartin importuned his brokers to
let him speculate on credit, in a small way. They did. They were kindly
enough men and sincerely wished to help him. But luck ran against him.
With the obstinacy of unsuperstitious gamblers he insisted on fighting
Fate. He was a bull in a bear market; and the more he lost the more
he thought the inevitable "rally" in prices was due. He bought in
expectation of it and lost again and again, until he owed the brokers a
greater sum than he could possibly pay; and they refused point blank to
give him credit for another cent, disregarding his vehement entreaties
to buy a last hundred, just one more chance, the last, because he would
be sure to win. And, of course, the long-expected happened and the
market went up with a rapidity that made the Street blink; and Gilmartin
figured that had not the brokers refused his last order, he would have
made enough to pay off the indebtedness and have left, in addition,
$2,950; for he would have "pyramided" on the way up. He showed the
brokers his figures, accusingly, and they had some words about it and
he left the office, almost tempted to sue the firm for conspiracy
with intent to defraud; but decided that it was "another of Luck's
sockdolagers" and let it go at that, gambler-like.

When he returned to the brokers' office--the next day--he began to
speculate in the only way he could--vicariously. Smith, for instance,
who was long of 500 St. Paul at 125, took less interest in the deal than
did Gilmartin, who thenceforth assiduously studied the news slips
and sought information on St. Paul all over the Street, listening
thrillingly to tips and rumors regarding the stock, suffering keenly
when the price declined, laughing and chirruping blithely if the
quotations moved upward, exactly as though it were his own stock. In a
measure it was as an anodyne to his ticker fever. Indeed, in some cases
his interest was so poignant and his advice so frequent--he would speak
of _our_ deal--that the lucky winner gave him a small share of his
spoils, which Gilmartin accepted without hesitation--he was beyond
pride-wounding by now--and promptly used to back s