I had
taken such pains with it; it had cost me much effort.
"I will read it," said he, and he took it. "Everything you write is
certain to cost you effort, but you are far too impetuous; if you could
only be a little more sober. There's too much fever. In the meantime, I
will read it," and he turned to the table again.
There I sat. Dared I ask for a shilling? explain to him why there was
always fever? He would be sure to aid me; it was not the first time.
I stood up. Hum! But the last time I was with him he had complained about
money, and had sent a messenger out to scrape some together for me. Maybe
it might be the same case now. No; it should not occur! Could I not see
then that he was sitting at work?
Was there otherwise anything? he inquired.
"No," I answered, and I compelled my voice to sound steady. "About how
soon shall I call in again?"
"Oh, any time you are passing--in a couple of days or so."
I could not get my request over my lips. This man's friendliness seemed to
me beyond bounds, and I ought to know how to appreciate it. Rather die of
hunger! I went. Not even when I was outside the door, and felt once more
the pangs of hunger, did I repent having left the office without having
asked for that shilling. I took the other shaving out of my pocket and
stuck it into my mouth. It helped. Why hadn't I done so before? "You ought
to be ashamed of yourself," I said aloud.
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