"If you're short—" Brauer was whispering.
Starratt hesitated. Deep down he never had liked Brauer; in fact, he always had just missed snubbing him. Still it was decent of Brauer to…
"That's very kind, I'm sure. Could you give me—say, five dollars?"
Brauer thrust two lean, bloodless fingers into his vest pocket and drew out a crisp note.
"Thanks, awfully," Starratt said, quickly, as he reached for the money.
Brauer's face lit up with a swift glow of satisfaction. Starratt almost shrank back. He felt a clammy hand pressing the bill against his palm.
"Thanks, awfully," he murmured again.
Brauer dropped his eyes with a suggestion of unpleasant humility.
"I wish," flashed through Starratt's mind, "that I had asked for ten dollars."
* * * * *