“Because I must get some work.”
“It is not easy to get work in the summer.”
“I know, but I must get some. I owe money to Amos.”
“Yes, I know. But your wife is making money now.”
The man scowled at her. “How do you know that? Before God, I swear that she is not.”
“Come, come, Gregorio. You were drunk last night, and your tongue wagged pretty freely. It’s not a bit of use being angry with me, because I only know what you’ve told me. Besides, I’m your friend, you know that.”
Gregorio flushed angrily at the woman’s words, but he knew quite well it was no use replying to them, for she was speaking only the truth. But the knowledge that he had betrayed his secret annoyed him. He had grown used to the facts and could look at them easily enough, but he had not reckoned on others also learning them.
He determined to go out and find work, or at any rate to tramp the streets pretending to look for something to do. The woman became intolerable to him, and the Penny-farthing Shop, reeking with the odour of stale tobacco and spilled liquor, poisoned him. He took up his hat brusquely and stepped into the street.
Madam Marx, standing at the door, laughed at him as she called out, “Good-bye, Gregorio; when will you come back?”
He did not answer, but the sound of her laughter followed him up the street, and he kicked angrily at the stones in his path.