CHAPTER XV
I told the Man of the World the story of a business failure in the East End. The sufferers were two very tiny Italian boys, joint proprietors of a fruit-stand. An unexpected season of warm weather had proved bad for bananas, and the firm was insolvent.
I was right in thinking that the Man of the World would be interested in hearing of this, and I described the situation to him in much detail.
The Man of the World and I had become great friends, and he had taken me into his confidence. I knew all about the money that he made at cards. A set of his brother’s friends had taught him to play poker, and were in the habit of amusing themselves by letting him win. I knew too about the horse that he had bought without his father’s knowledge. He kept it in a stable near the park, and rode it every afternoon.
“I have to work a bluff game to get there,” he said one day, “but I get there just the same.”
He told me about his young lady acquaintances. Evidently he had several who admired him much. Two embroidered pillows and an elaborate photograph case were proudly displayed by him as trophies of conquest. One day, however, he had a bitter quarrel with his prettiest girl friend. It was, I believe, about a bag of popcorn. After that he was very satirical in regard to the entire sex, and had no communications with any member of it except myself. “There are no women in it for me any longer,” he said darkly.
When I asked him if he would like to hear the story of my latest “case,” he responded that it would give him great pleasure.
Then he regarded me for a minute with a judicial air.
“What is it you do with people, anyway?” he asked. “I don’t understand.”
“Oh, a great many things—” I began.