Hubert sat in the car and ran over in his mind the names of everybody he knew. Some had already been borrowed from. Some had no money. Some weren't extra friendly toward him, and some knew Helen too well. The car was parked on Two Hundred and Seventh Street right beside Isham Park. He was supposed to be out interviewing various business magnates, but there was nobody to interview, and there was no use worrying Lillian by telling her so. He had driven his car to its present whereabouts an hour before, and there he sat with three dollars and a half in his pocket, wondering to whom he could turn for help. He knew there was no use in asking Cliff or Billy for the money he had once given them. They would only assure him that they, too, were broke. Cliff probably was now, with the baby coming and all. But Billy—he ought to have money. Hubert felt sure, however, that Billy would never return a nickel he had borrowed, and it would be humiliating to ask for it. Now whom could he borrow from?
A girl with a floppy red hat passed close to the Packard. Hubert looked at the hat and got an inspiration. Maybe there was nothing in the idea; still, it wouldn't hurt to try.
She would be awake. She wasn't the sort who slept late. Anyhow it was after eleven. He lost no time in testing the merits of his inspiration. He went at once to the apartment on Broadway where lived his friends the Mosses. During the five-minute ride Theresa had become very dear to him. The more he thought of her, the more kind-hearted and understanding she seemed. She wouldn't even be surprised to see him alone and
