He responded placidly:
“I get along as I can.”
“What are you doing now?” I asked.
“You see what I am doing,” he answered quit resignedly.
I felt my face getting red. I insisted:
“But every day?”
“Every day it is the same thing,” was his reply, accompanied with a thick puff of tobacco smoke.
He then tapped with a sou on the top of the marble table, to attract the attention of the waiter, and called out:
“Waiter, two 'bocks.'”
A voice in the distance repeated: