lend him money. Now it was time to do something. Tomorrow morning he'd go ask Helen for money.
It would take courage all right, but, hell, he wasn't afraid of her. He needed the money. God, he couldn't just be left to starve to death or die of this cold. He'd have to see a doctor. Maybe he was getting pneumonia or flu or any one of those deadly things. A fellow had to look out for his health.
He'd ask Helen for a lot of money. Not because he really needed a lot—hell, there'd be a job along any minute now, providing he was well enough to take it—but because Helen would be snooty toward a person who asked for a hundred dollars and respectful toward one who asked for a thousand. He'd make her respect him good and plenty. He'd ask for five thousand dollars. He'd talk like Rockefeller. He'd tell her that he had a chance to make a good investment, only he was short five thousand dollars. That would make a hit with her. She was always in favor of investments. She'd probably ask him what he was going to invest in. He'd have to make something up. Well, that wouldn't be hard. What the hell, she might as well give the money to him as let it lie around idle or spend it on the kid. She was making a regular softie of the boy anyhow by spending too much on him and making life too easy for him. She had gotten rid of the Oakland and bought the kid a Studebaker. He was probably earning twenty bucks a week and there he was driving around in a swell new car. Helen was foolish about some things. Well, she could be a little foolish for him. It wouldn't hurt her. He'd pay the five thousand back to her with interest
