"But—say, I—I can't shuv."
"Joe shall teach you."
"Joe? Y' mean—Joe Madden?"
"He'll be chauffeur number one—and there's a cross-town car! Come on, Spider! Now—in with you!"
CHAPTER XXXI
IN WHICH SOAPY TAKES A HAND
O'Rourke's was full: its long bar, shaped something like the letter J, supported many lounging arms and elbows; its burnished foot-rail was scraped by boots of many shapes and sizes; its heavy air, thick with cigarette smoke, hummed with many voices. In one corner, a remote corner where few ventured to penetrate, Soapy leaned, as pallid and noncommittal as ever, while Spike poured out to him the story of his woes.
"She drove me out, Soapy! She drove me away from her!" he repeated for the hundredth time. The boy was unnaturally flushed and bright of eye, and his voice was as shaky as the hand which fidgeted with his whisky glass; and the sense of his wrongs was great and growing greater with every sip.
"She told me t' leave her! She drove me away from her—"