She read the letter, and then he told her about it. "So now you see what I'm up against. Where in heck am I to pull down five or six thousand per year?"
"Oh, you could do it if you put your mind down to it. What do you work at?"
"Well, just now I am not working. To tell you the truth, I got canned yesterday. I was working over in Hepp's Bargain Basement, and the boss got me sore, and I got right up and told him where he got off. You know I got a hot temper."
"What were you getting?"
"Seventeen dollars."
"That's not much for a fellow like you. Don't you know any trade?"
"Nothing better than selling shoes."
He spoke in a low tone of voice, glancing guardedly about him to see that he was not overheard. Mingled with his humiliation, he felt a certain rare pleasure in telling this girl the truth; but he was quite content to enjoy this pleasure at her expense only, and would probably have been very unhappy if it had been broadcasted that Paul Manley had been fired from a job which paid seventeen dollars a week.
"Oh, I can get another job easily enough," he said. "I've had so many jobs that I know about what to say. It's always easier to get a job than to hold it, is my experience."