"Oh, yes. And I used to see you over at the other place."
"Yes, I remember, now. And your name is—"
"Watkins."
"Yes, that's a fact. I remember you now. How are you getting along, Watkins?"
"All right."
"Yes, sir, I used to know you," said Bodney. "And I guess you are about the best in your line."
The man smiled. "Well, that's what they say."
"Yes, I've heard a good many people say it. Well, you understand your business. Say, can you do me a favor? I need ten dollars till tomorrow morning, and if you'll let me have it, I'll—"
The man shut him off with the shake of the head. "I haven't got ten cents," he said.
Bodney stepped out. "Come in again," the fellow called after him. He did not reply, except in a mumble, to hurl imprecations back over his shoulder at the soda-water man. "He's a liar, and I'll bet he's a thief. Now what?" he added, halting on the corner. He looked up and down the street, and scanned the faces of the passers-by, hoping to recognize an acquaintance. Presently a man rushed up and with a "helloa, old fellow," grasped him by the hand. Bodney gripped him; he did not recall his name, but he held him close. "I haven't seen you for some time," said Bodney.