He wasn't sure. But there it was beckoning him and he should follow, true child of Romance that he was.
And it was time he moved on.
He had been a year now at the Hotel and was, as always, tending to grow slack.
Salvation Joe was watching him, waiting his chance, and Ernie knew it.
Now a change stole over him. A nucleus, small at first, but always growing, round which the dissipated forces of his spirit could rally, had been forming in his heart, unknown to him, ever since Ruth's advent to the Third Floor. He was becoming firm of purpose, gathering himself, making good. His eyes, his face, his gait, testified to the change.
Mr. Trupp, the observant, remarked on it to Mr. Pigott.
"He's growing," he said.
"The right way, let's hope," answered the other. "That place you sent him to is a queer kind of forcing house."
"He wants forcing," said Mr. Trupp. "We all do."
"Bah!" growled Mr. Pigott. "You and your Lash."