"Not since I had the typhoid fever, three years ago."
"In all that time you have not missed a single business day in the street?"
"Not one."
For a few moments Farwell was silent. He was registering a vow that he would never allow himself to become so utterly demoralized, body and soul, by the demon of play, as was this poor nervous human being at his side. Hewson's millions at that moment numbered a score or more; his name was in the mouths of the whole army of gamblers, by whom be was envied, admired, and feared. It seemed to Charles Farwell that of all the unhappy human beings with whom he had been thrown in contact, Hewson, the great stock operator, was the most to be pitied.
Mr. Graball was not at home, the flunkey who answered the summons of the bell informed them. He had gone down to Long Branch, and would not be back that night.
