Not far behind him was a door leading to a side room. This door stood partly ajar, and by pushing his chair back a little distance from the table, Bob was enabled to see into this apartment.
At a table in the middle of the small room were seated an old man and a middle-aged woman. The old man, it was plain to see, was little better than a sot. His clothes were worn out and dirty, and his general appearance showed that he had long since lost all pride.
The woman was quite lady-like in appearance and well dressed. She seemed to be expostulating with the old man.
“Why don’t you leave them, father, and turn over a new leaf?” Bob heard her say.
“That’s all right enough to say,” growled the old man, in return. “I can’t leave ’em.”
“Yes, you can.”
“If I did, how would I get along?”
“I will help you.”
“Bosh! Your help wouldn’t amount to enough. It costs money to live.”
“It costs money to drink,” she cried. “Otherwise——”