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Hunger
hungry, perhaps, for several days—owed his landlady.
"Yes," I replied; "if you will be out soon. . . ."
"Of course," he broke in, seizing hold of my arm; "but I may as well tell you I don't believe you. You are such an idiot, that it's better you come in along with me."
I understood what he meant, suddenly felt a little spark of pride, and answered:
"I can't; I promised to be in Bernt Akers Street at half-past seven, and . . ."
"Half-past seven, quite so; but it's eight now. Here I am, standing with the watch in my hand that I'm going to pawn. So, in with you, you hungry sinner! I'll get you five shillings, anyhow," and he pushed me in.
