"I won't do it! I don't want any dang food! And look here"-- he spoke sharply to stop her, as she went toward the telephone--"I don't want any dang taxi, either! You look after your mother when she wakes up.

I got to be at WORK!" And though she followed him to the front door, entreating, he could not be stayed or hindered.

He went through the quiet morning streets at a rickety, rapid gait, swinging his old straw hat in his hands, and whispering angrily to himself as he went.

His grizzled hair, not trimmed for a month, blew back from his damp forehead in the warm breeze; his reddened eyes stared hard at nothing from under blinking lids; and one side of his face twitched startlingly from time to time;--children might have run from him, or mocked him.
When he had come into that fallen quarter his industry had partly revived and wholly made odorous, a negro woman, leaning upon her whitewashed gate, gazed after him and chuckled for the benefit of a gossiping friend in the next tiny yard.

"Oh, good Satan! Wha'ssa matter that ole glue man ?" "Who?
Him ?" the neighbour inquired.