“Goin’ there again to-night?”
I said I didn’t know.
He gazed at me with a kind of timid daring. “You wouldn’t be—you wouldn’t be goin’ to the Down and Out Club?”
I smiled.
“Why should you ask me that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. See you talkin’ to one of those fellas oncet. Chap named Pyncheon. Worse than missions and ’vangelists, they are.”
“Did you ever think of going there yourself?”
“Oh, Lord love ye! I’ve thought of it, yes. But I’ve fought it off. Once ye do that ye’re done for.”
“Well, I don’t believe I’m done for—” I began; but he interrupted me coaxingly.