"They've got the militia on their side," he thought. "There isn't anything those men can do."
While this was still in his mind, the incident with Oeslogge and Carrie occurred. There had been a good deal to irritate him, but this seemed much the worst. Never before had she accused him of stealing—or very near that. She doubted the naturalness of so large a bill. And he had worked so hard to make expenses seem light. He had been "doing" butcher and baker in order not to call on her. He had eaten very little—almost nothing.
"Damn it all!" he said. "I can get something. I'm not down yet."
He thought that he really must do something now. It was too cheap to sit around after such an insinuation as this. Why, after a little, he would be standing anything.
He got up and looked out the window into the chilly street. It came gradually into his mind, as he stood there, to go to Brooklyn.
"Why not?" his mind said. "Any one can get work over there. You'll get two a day."
"How about accidents?" said a voice. "You might get hurt."
"Oh, there won't be much of that," he answered. "They've called out the police. Any one who wants to run a car will be protected all right."
"You don't know how to run a car," rejoined the voice.
"I won't apply as a motorman," he answered. "I can ring up fares all right."