"How'd you expect to get it?"
"She wants me to beg."
"That's a good way," said Ben, approvingly; "when you get hold of a soft chap, or a lady, them's the ones to shell out."
"I don't like it," said Mark. "I don't want people to think me a beggar."
"What's the odds?" said Ben, philosophically. "You're just the chap to make a good beggar."
"What do you mean by that, Ben?" said Mark, who was far from considering this much of a compliment.
"Why you're a thin, pale little chap, that people will pity easy. Now I aint the right cut for a beggar. I tried it once, but it was no go."
"Why not?" asked Mark, who began to be interested in spite of himself.
"You see," said Ben, again puffing out a volume of smoke, "I look too tough, as if I could take care of myself. People don't pity me. I tried it one night when I was hard up. I hadn't got but six cents, and I wanted to go to the Old Bowery bad. So I went up to a gent as was comin' up Wall Street from the Ferry, and said, 'Won't you give a poor boy a few pennies to save him from starvin'?'"