He could look forward to nothing better than a badly-cooked supper at the coffee-joint--hot meat on a cold plate, half done suet pudding, muddy coffee, and bad bread, and he was cold, miserably cold, and wet to the bone.

All at once a sudden rage against Trina took possession of him.

It was her fault.

She knew it was going to rain, and she had not let him have a nickel for car fare--she who had five thousand dollars.

She let him walk the streets in the cold and in the rain.