“Don’t make me laugh!” said Joe. “I’m no philanthropist! I want things fixed in a certain way between you and me, and I’m willing to pay for it. If you ever come around me again, the deal is off, see? Beat it now.” But she lingered. She plucked up a little courage. “If you was to see the youngest, Joe. . . . He’s a smart kid. Something could be made of him. . . .” “Then make it,” said Joe. “You’re his mutter. You’ve got money, now.” “I t’ink he’s like you, Joe.” “Useless!” said Joe, grinning. “You can’t touch my heart. . . . I couldn’t do nothing with a boy off the streets.” “That’s what you was.” “Exactly! And nobody couldn’t do nothing with me. I did it for meself!” “Don’t you want to see the old man before he goes?” “What for? When he was well the sight of him used to make _me_ sick!” “Well . . . good-bye, Joe. . . .” “Easy with the Joes when you open the door!” “I’ll be careful. When I write I’ll put Mr. Kaplan. . . .” IV The four friends drifted out into the street from Ceccina’s. Linking arms, they paraded towards Sixth avenue, singing. Binks had to be put in the middle because he wobbled at the knees. Stanny and Jasper each had a good edge on, too. Jasper was gloriously released. Wilfred observed them enviously. I can drink like a fish, he thought, and it has no effect whatever! They made a round of their favorite resorts; the Grapevine; Maria’s; Mould’s over on University Place. Wilfred tossed down more fiery potations than the _vino de pasto_ of Ceccina’s. It only intensified his self-consciousness. I’ll never be able to carry it through! . . . You _shall_ go through with it! He was ceaselessly plotting how he could shake his friends without exciting ribald comment. As they became really drunk that offered no difficulty. But how dear they became to him! How he hated to leave them! . . . I really ought not to leave them now. I’ve got the only cool head in the party. They might get into serious trouble. Some other night I’ll start out alone and . . . Come off! You’ve _got_ to go through with it! In the end he found himself alone without knowing exactly how it had come about. I must be getting drunk! he thought hopefully. But no! the surroundings were still bitten into his consciousness as with acid. The trees of Union Square, misshapen like rickety children, and tragic in the bareness of November; the ugly statue of Lincoln on the corner that he had passed a thousand times without ever seeing it; the green electric cars creeping like worms around the double curve; and that endless, dingy press of people that shuffled back and forth on the south side of Fourteenth street every night in the year. Such dulled and flaccid faces! Why were they deader than the faces on other streets? Why did they crowd together on the one sidewalk, leaving the other empty?