"Look for work! She tells me to get out and look for work." He tried to shield himself from his own mental accusation, which told him that she was right.
"What a cursed thing that Mrs.Vance's call was, anyhow," he thought.
"Stood right there, and looked me over.

I know what she was thinking." He remembered the few times he had seen her in Seventy-eight Street.

She was always a swell-looker, and he had tried to put on the air of being worthy of such as she, in front of her.

Now, to think she had caught him looking this way.

He wrinkled his forehead in his distress.
"The devil!" he said a dozen times in an hour.
It was a quarter after four when he left the house.