"Sure, lots 'em," said the half-intoxicated one.
A teller from one of the other Mt. Alban banks extended a box of cigarettes toward Nelson.
"No thanks!"
"By heck, it helps a fellow a whole lot when he's tired," said the teller; "come on—just one."
Even felt fagged from hours of bootless labor. He hesitated, almost stupidly, and the bankclerk pushed the box rapidly into his hand. He figured it would be childish to refuse after that—and accepted his first cigarette.
It did help him, for the moment. After a few puffs he began to be amused at Bill's words and actions.
"Close up shop," said Bill, recklessly; "to —— with honest endeavor."
"How much are you out?" asked the alien teller.
"One dirty little copper," said Bill, answering for his desk-mate.
"Let's have a look," said the teller. "This is against the rules, I know—"