It wasn't any of my business where he got the money.

It was his, anyway.
Then I began kicking the chips around with my foot and saying, "Poor kid." And I said I guessed he'd die before he could ever chop down a tree.

Because, now since I had seen those red spots on his cheeks I knew how bad he was.

I knew he didn't have any strength at all, and all the time something he had said kept running in my mind.

"I like the one about honor." "Poor little Skinny," I said.