"Bring me two more eggs, please.... Lord, but tea is wonderful stuff." The warm savor of tea filled his head. All of a sudden he felt very talkative. "I tried to ship as a seaman. You stand in a large room full of pipesmoke and a man chalks up the names of ships on a blackboard.... The finest names of ships: there's been the Arethusa and the Adolphus Q. Bangs and the Heart's Desire and the Muskokacola or something like that.... But, I always seemed to get down to the office too late or I didn't have five dollars to give the mate or something. Didn't have much luck with bussboy either. It's amazing, Fanshaw, how many people are just crazy to wash dishes." Wenny laughed and choked over a gulp of tea. "Don't eat so fast," said Fanshaw in a strange hoarse voice. "Why not?" "You'll choke, that's why." "God, I wish I would... Have you ever ... felt so's you didn't care if you choked or not? D'you know I met a fine kid named Whitey. He could go without eating three days an' never notice it. I could never do that. I don't guess there's much of any thing I could do." Fanshaw was looking at his watch. "Really, we should be going.... I've got to go out to dinner, Wenny, I wish there were something I could do to help." "You can pay for my eggs, you old put you." Fanshaw paid the cheque; then he said rather solemnly: "Look, you must let me lend you some money." "All right, give me five bucks." At the door, Wenny waited a moment for Fanshaw to come from the washroom. His head was singing dizzily. It's all up now, he was saying to himself. He thought of his room and his bed; delicious it will be to stretch out between the clean smooth sheets and sleep. Going up on the car he felt a haze of contentment stealing over him. All about people nodded to the joggle, hatchetfaced women and flabby jowled men. Fanshaw's talk and his own answers droned beyond a great drowsy curtain in which the phrase Par delicatesse j'ai perdu la vie, wove in and out endlessly. Outside autos slushed through streets running with the thaw. Fanshaw was saying something about the deceitful warmth of the day, spring-like. In front of them, four seats ahead in a blue hat with cherries on it, was Ellen. Wenny clenched his teeth, why would his damn pulse speed up so? She turned and stared at him with a comical little expression about her mouth. He drew his eyes away quickly, felt himself hideously flushing.--You skunk afraid to recognize her because she's a whore, are you? Don't want Fanshaw to know, do you? snarled an angry voice in his head. Her lips were pale today. He remembered the sweetish fatty smell of the rouge on her lips that night. And only four nights ago; how long. He didn't dare look at her again. The car stopped. "Come on, Wenny," came Fanshaw's voice briskly.