"What have you found?"
"Nothing! I can't. I can't find anything."
It was the voice of abject hopelessness. His companion studied him, debating something with himself. He coughed. "Well," he said, "I don't know where you'll get anything regular, but there are a lot of little things to do, to earn a dollar or two, if you want to."
"Where?"
He smiled at Don's amazement. "Why, all over town. You could try boosting down on the Bowery"
"Boosting?"
"Yes."
"What's that?"
"Well." He coughed again. "I'll show you—if you care to try it. It's fifty cents for an afternoon—a dollar a day if you work nights too."
Don clenched his hands. "I'll do anything."
He suppressed a smile for this boyish tone of heroic desperation. "Have you had your luncheon?"
"No. I"
"You'd better come and have it."
V
He had a low voice and a good manner, an ingratiating gentleness, an attractive quiet address; and to Don he seemed prosperously well-clothed, though a keener eye might have seen that his blue serge was worn shiny on the seams, that his straw hat was a lemon-yellow from
