The dive had only just been opened, and was being dusted and swept by
two slatternly women with dago complexions, and voices like hyenas. It
still reeked of stale drink and tobacco.
"What's the good of coming to a place like this?" Hamar demanded, as
soon as he had freed himself from Kelson's clutches. "We can't get
breakfast here."
"Matt's mad, that's what's the matter with him," Curtis added in
disgust. "Let's get out."
He turned to go--then, halted--and stood still. He appeared to be
listening. "What's up with you?" Hamar asked. "Both you fellows are
behaving like lunatics this morning--there's not a pin to choose
between you."
"They're playing cards, that's all," Curtis said. "Can't you hear
them?"
Hamar shook his head. "Not a sound," he said. "Just look at Matt!"
While the other two were talking, Kelson had followed the girl to the
bar, and catching her up, just as she entered it, said in a manner
that was peculiar to him--a manner seldom without effect upon girls of
his class--"I beg your pardon, miss, are we too early to be served?
Jerusalem! Haven't I met you somewhere before?"
The girl looked him square in the eyes and then smiled. "As like as
not," she said. "I go pretty near everywhere! What do you want?"
"Well!" Kelson soliloquized; "breakfast is what we are particularly
anxious for--but I suppose that is out of the question in a dive!"
"Then why did you come here?" the girl queried.
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