The waiter returned with the order and Manuel threw himself ravenously upon one of the slices.
“Good Lord!” exclaimed Vidal, gazing at him from time to time. “What a vagabond’s face you have!”
“Why?”
“How do I know? Because you have.”
“What’s a fellow going to do about it? He looks like what he is.”
“But have you been working? Have you learned a trade?”
“Yes. I’ve been a servant, a baker, a ragpicker, a typesetter, and now a tramp. And of all these things, I can’t say which is the worst.”
“You must have gone hungry many a time, eh?”
“Uf!... Plenty.... If only they were the last times!”