mania.

Thus I remember once running over to Philadelphia to spend a Saturday
and Sunday with him, visits of this kind, in either direction, being of
the commonest occurrence. At that time he was living in some
quiet-looking boarding-house in South Fourth Street, but in which dwelt
or visited the group above-mentioned, and whenever I came there, at
least, there was always an atmosphere of intense gaming or playing in
some form, which conveyed to me nothing so much as a glorious sense of
life and pleasure. A dozen or more men might be seated at or standing
about a poker or dice table, in summer (often in winter) with their
coats off, their sleeves rolled up, Peter always conspicuous among them.
On the table or to one side would be money, a pitcher or a tin pail of
beer, boxes of cigarettes or cigars, and there would be Peter among the
players, flushed with excitement, his collar off, his hair awry, his
little figure stirring about here and there or gesticulating or lighting
a cigar or pouring down a glass of beer, shouting at the top of his
voice, his eyes aglow, "That's mine!" "I say it's not!" "Two on the
sixes!" "Three!" "Four!" "Ah, roll the bones! Roll the bones!" "Get off!
Get off! Come on now, Spikes--cough up! You've got the money now. Pay
back. No more loans if you don't." "Once on the fours--the fives--the
aces!" "Roll the bones! Roll the bones! Come on!" Or, if he saw me,
softening and saying, "Gee, Dreiser, I'm ahead twenty-eight so far!" or
"I've lost thirty all told. I'll stick this out, though, to win or lose
five more, and then I'll quit. I give notice, you fellows, five more,
one way or the other, and then I'm through. See? Say, these damned
sharks are always trying to turn a trick. And when they lose they don't
want to pay. I'm offa this for life unless I get a better deal."

In the room there might be three or four girls--sisters, sweethearts,
pals of one or other of the players--some dancing, some playing the
piano or singing, and in addition the landlord and his wife, a slattern
pair usually, about whose past and present lives Peter seemed always to
know much. He had seduced them all apparently into a kind of rakish
camaraderie which was literally amazing to behold. It thrilled,
fascinated, at times frightened me, so thin and inadequate and
inefficient seemed my own point of view and appetite for life. He was
vigorous, charitable, pagan, gay, full of health and strength. He would
play at something,