“Why not accept the offer?” he questioned. Mr. Cameron could certainly feel no more disrespect for him than he did now, and the blatant fact that he was hungry and without work forced itself upon his attention.
“It means another chance,” he muttered, and now that he was sure of himself, he knew that a chance meant success. He thrust the letter into his pocket.
“Hang it, I’ll take him up,” he thought. “I have been everything else; I may as well be a grafter.”
As he slid his hand out of his coat pocket, he felt another envelope. He pulled it out, and looked longingly at it. It was Jean’s note. He hesitated, then tore it open.
“I need it now, if ever I shall,” he said to himself. There was only a line, signed with Jean’s initials.
“I still believe in you.”
Stephen read it with bowed head. His shoulders shook. The paper danced up and down before his eyes. Over and over he read the note. Unconsciously he stretched out his hand, as if to press in gratitude and devotion the hand of some one before him. At length, with a start, he came to himself. He returned the note to his pocket, and in a determined fashion walked up to a man who was standing near him.
“I would like to borrow two cents for a stamp,” he said.
The stranger roared with laughter.