“Good-evenin', Grant,” said Tom.
“Good-evening, Tom.”
Grant looked at Willis Ford, but the latter's lip curled and he did not speak. Grant, however, bowed and passed on. He was surprised at the intimacy which had grown up between Ford and those two, knowing Ford's spirit of exclusiveness. He would have been less surprised had he known that Morrison had first ingratiated himself with Ford by offering to lend him money, and afterward had lured him into a gambling house, where Ford, not knowing that he was a dupe, had been induced to play, and was now a loser to the extent of several hundred dollars, for which Morrison held his notes.
“I don't know when I can pay you,” said Ford, gloomily, when he came to realize his situation.
“Oh, something will turn up.” said Jim Morrison, lightly. “I shan't trouble you.”
Two weeks later, however, he lay in wait for Ford when he left Wall Street.
“I want to speak to you a moment, Mr. Ford,” he said.
“Well, what is it?” asked Ford, uncomfortably.
“I am hard up.”
“So am I,” responded Willis Ford.