"What do you follow?" Hiram used the new expression almost unconsciously.
"I'm a promoter and capitalist."
"A promoter and capitalist," Hiram repeated vaguely.
"Yep. At present, though, I ain't workin' at the capitalist end. But I'm always a promoter."
Hiram was growing uncomfortable. He had been warming toward this genial stranger; now he felt he was being ridiculed. He kept silent and looked out the window.
The other nonchalantly resumed his paper as if the conversation were over.
But Hiram did not wish it to end here. Despite the stranger's fantastic statement, there was that in his bearing which told Hiram he meant what he said, and that, furthermore, it was with him a matter of indifference whether any one believed him or not. He wished the two tramps would leave. He felt that then he could talk to the other man with less reserve.
As he sat there silently thinking, this wish was granted. A third unkempt individual thrust his head in at the door and remarked, "Hey, youse!"
The cribbage players looked up.
In explanation the man in the door held up a quarter between a calloused forefinger and thumb.