I was going back to break into the house of life.

It was a crowbar, that pitiful sum of money accumulated by two years of crucifixion.

Think of it! A sum that in the days ere the silver spoon had melted, I staked in careless moods of an instant on a turn of the cards.

But as you say, a burglar, I came back to break into life, and I came to Boston.

You have a fine turn for a figure of speech, steward, and I salute you." Again bottle and glass tinkled together, and both men drank eyes to eyes and each was aware that the eyes he gazed into were honest and understanding.
"But it was a thin crowbar, steward.